New Case, Old Partner
by SquirlyForSpike
Summary: The disappearance of a Naval Officer brings surprises to some of the NCIS team members.
1. Chasing Frustration

Chasing Frustration

062508

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the computer I'm posting this from. I'm just borrowing characters who were created by more imaginative people than I am.

Summary: A case involving the FBI and NCIS reunites old friends and ignites a new love for one of Gibbs' people.

Reviews: Yes, please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

A/N: This is a new thing for me. It's the first published story I've ever written that has no supernatural aspects to it at all. I realize that this chapter doesn't appear to be NCIS based but patience will be rewarded in the second chapter. This is a crossover between NCIS and Without A Trace. Well, if you squint, tilt your head and look really, really closely it is. I mean, get out the magnifying glass here. I borrowed the character of Grant Mars from W.A.T. because they didn't put him to good enough use, in my opinion. And because he was brought to life by the incredible James Marsters, therefore catching the attention of my very fickle, right now anyway, muse. This is more of a character driven story rather than case based. I'm getting my feet wet in a new genre so please don't be too harsh with me if there isn't enough action or excitement to suit you. I know nothing of law enforcement and I haven't watched a lot of NCIS, although the new DVD sets we have are fixing that lack, so I might be slightly inaccurate in my settings.

As stated in my disclaimer, I don't even own this computer. The unfinished chapters of The Demon Within and Resurrected are currently languishing in the comatose depths of my own laptop which I hope to have repaired within a couple of weeks but don't any of you hold your breath. I've been hoping that for 3 months.

Chapter 1

FBI Agent Grant Mars threw his keys onto the small table he'd placed next to the front door specifically to catch such items. At the same time he let a new leather case slide down and thump onto the floor gently. Wouldn't do to damage the contents, of course. Not after he'd spent most of his savings on the up-to-date laptop computer and had spent the final three weeks at his last job scanning boxes of information into it. That had been over a month ago and he was still trying to make sense of the information he'd so hurriedly saved onto the diabolical machine. Grant was more of a paper file kind of guy and, while he conceded the superior portability of the computer, he despaired ever being able to access his hard worked for information.

Relieved of that small burden, he next unhooked his shoulder holster and gun. A quick tap on the side of the table caused a door underneath the tabletop to swing open, he placed the gun and holster on the bottom shelf and his badge on the top. He shoved the door closed and it returned to its usual appearance of the table pedestal.

He walked wearily down the short hall that led to his miniscule living room. Weaving past several boxes, some of which were open while the rest were still taped shut, he pealed off his suit jacket on the way. He threw the lightweight wool blend onto the arm of the love seat, the largest piece of furniture in the room that in no way matched the old arm chair which sat at an angle from it. With frustrated irritation he tugged the silk tie from around his neck. His blue eyes scanned his surroundings with ill-concealed distaste. This tiny apartment had been all he could find when he'd had to move from Boston to DC. He shrugged, at least he hadn't lost his job completely. He grudgingly considered himself lucky in that respect. He'd underestimated the authority carried by the New York office Special Agent he'd defied. He was also very lucky he hadn't been pulled from the case completely. The transfer had come as a nasty surprise though.

The five foot ten inch detective kicked his dress shoes off into the corner next to the door that led to the apartment's only bedroom and made his way past several more open boxes that were spilling dishware and pans onto the floor and into the alcove that barely passed for a kitchen. He pulled the door of the refrigerator looking for something to eat but settled for a beer. His appetite had gone as missing as the women he looked for and it showed. His normally lean frame was beginning to border on gaunt while his high cheekbones had become slashes in his narrow face. Letting the door swing shut, his dark blue gaze settled on the small stack of take out menus that were already attached to the freezer door by a large magnet.

'Chinese tonight.' He decided as he set the beer down on the counter long enough to snag the appropriate piece of cardboard from under the magnet. He hooked his pinky finger around the neck of the brown bottle, let the rest of his fingers grasp the menu and made his way back into the living area. With his other hand, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and began to dial. After placing the minimum order possible, he let his thin body fall onto the old but comfortable love seat. He let his head fall back onto the cushion as he nestled the beer bottle between his thighs. His sock covered feet found their way onto the edge of the sturdy oak coffee table. He gazed at the dingy off white ceiling for only a few seconds before thick dark lashes fluttered closed and he dozed until the delivery guy pounded on the door.

Grant ate what he could of his dinner. One thing he could say about the nation's capital, it _did_ have good take out. He wrapped up the rest and stuck it in the fridge alongside other, older, abandoned cartons of various prior delivered meals, most of them of dubious age. He double checked all the security locks, gave the computer case a hate-filled glare and made his weary way into the Lilliputian sized bathroom. A quick shower, a barely-enough-to-dry-off toweling and he wended his way into the cluttered bedroom to fall into bed. He was asleep almost before his head hit the stack of pillows.

And so ended yet another day of dreary frustration for Federal Agent Grant Mars. He'd been living this way for more weeks than he cared to think about. What he didn't know, as he fell deeper into nightmare riddled sleep, was that tomorrow... his life was going to _change_...

**_TBC_**


	2. Jurisdictional Encounters

Jurisdictional Encounters

062608

Disclaimer: Still not even owning a working computer. If you recognize anyone, they belong to others more imaginative than I am.

Summary: Two agencies, one case. Can they work together?

Reviews: Yes please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

A/N: Yes, I know the title sucks and the summary bites but it was 2 am and I was stoned on pain pills when I did them so please don't hold them against me. I hope y'all like the second chapter better than the first. I think I have the NCIS guys fairly on character. Grant I'm giving new issues and problems as well as hobbies and interests. Without A Trace didn't develop the character at all so I'm taking the liberty.

Many thanks to Angel Spike and Wesleys Girl for her assistance in the idea of this fic and for keeping the chapters safe while I await the repair of my own computer.

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Chapter 2

Grant rolled over with a groan as the shrill sound of his cell phone penetrated the disturbing images of his dream world. A huge part of him was extremely happy to leave the nightmare but his body protested the interruption of its rest, however restless it may be. The phone had spent several minutes chirping, paused and then resumed its annoying noise as Grant struggled to untangle his lean limbs from the covers. A glance at the light green, old fashioned style alarm clock told him that it was due to ring in less than an hour. A fact that did _not_ make him feel any more rested. The apartment was too cluttered to run through so he padded carefully into the living room and snagged the vibrating phone from the coffee table. He flipped it open as he sank his nude body onto the sofa.

"Mars" He barked. All thoughts of sleep vanished as the voice droned into his ear. "Give me half an hour." He snapped the phone shut and rose to go start the coffee maker. It only held four cups and would be finished before he was even dressed.

A few minutes later, smartly clad in a chocolate brown suit, tan linen shirt and gold silk tie, Grant poured the entire contents of his tiny coffee maker into a large, insulated plastic mug, doctored it to his taste, attached the matching lid, opened the refrigerator with his right hand, removed two cans of Red Bull from the case that shared shelf space with his imported beer and slid them into his jacket pocket. His actions were all performed with the ease of many repetitions, done without conscious thought, allowing his brain to begin cataloging everything he would need to do once he arrived at the crime scene. He paused at the front door to gather his badge, gun, keys and computer case. Less than ten minutes after being pulled from his restless sleep Federal Agent Grant Mars was walking out of the door to begin another day of frustrating and depressing work.

Twenty minutes later, Grant switched his suit jacket for his black FBI windbreaker, slid one of the Red Bull cans into a pocket and shoved the driver's door to his Honda Accord closed. He pushed the key fob and peripherally registered the 'chirp' of the alarm setting on the coupe. He'd endured teasing about his choice of car but only one of his tormentors had been aware that the Honda had been modified to certain specifications and would outrun any of their expensive sports cars. It was his personal secret weapon and one of the few things in his life that he still cherished.

"What do we have?" Grant asked the uniformed cop that was guarding the perimeter of the crime scene. He flashed his FBI badge and made to duck under the yellow warning tape. Surprise flared in his dark blue eyes when the younger man halted the motion.

"I'm sorry, sir." The officer apologized. "But there's a federal team already on site."

Grant frowned and anger swamped him. "What do you mean? My office called and told me that this was my crime scene, the MO was the same as the son of a bitch I've been chasing for over three years. So what other federal agency could possibly have jurisdiction over _my_ case?" His voice had begun to rise by the time he finished his questions.

"Stand down." A new voice spoke up from directly behind the irate detective. The young police officer nodded and moved away as Grant swiveled around to unleash his ire on the newcomer. A tall man with mostly silver hair, blue eyes and black windbreaker jacket stood calmly inside the crime scene tape. A small patch with the initials NCIS decorated one side of the front. "So you're Fornell's new guy. I was wondering when our paths would cross. Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, NCIS." Gibbs stuck out his hand clearly expecting Grant to shake it, which he did, albeit grudgingly.

"Grant Mars, FBI, Missing Persons Unit." Grant introduced himself. "What interest does the Navy have with my trafficking case?"

Gribbs' blue eyes continued to survey the scene. "It becomes our interest" He spoke slowly, "when the latest victim is a Naval Officer."

Shock struck Grant speechless for more than a couple of seconds. He ran his free hand over his hair and raised his oversized coffee mug up for another gulp. His dark blue gaze followed Gibbs' thorough visual inspection of the area, a parking lot outside of a chain restaurant. He swallowed his coffee and finally spoke. "Well, that was _stupid_."

Humor gleamed in Jethro Gibbs' eyes although his face remained stern. "Yup." He agreed and raised his own coffee to his mouth. The silence that followed was not as uncomfortable as Grant might have expected it to be. He wasn't used to standing around and watching others do the work he was trained to do but that's what he did for almost two hours.

While they waited for his team to finish processing the scene, Gibbs studied the suppressed energy of the FBI agent at his side with interest. Fornell had told him about the newest agent but seeing for himself was eye-opening. His steel blue gaze sharpened when the shorter man reached into his pocket and pulled out a Red Bull, heedless of the coffee mug he'd set down several feet away. '_As bad as Abby_.' Jethro thought with bemusement as he watched the drink die in less than two minutes.

Mars stopped pacing as he took note of the tall, round faced young man who walked briskly over to Gibbs. "Boss, we're done getting Abby's stuff. There's not a lot. Tony's taking the last few photos and Ziva has terrorized all the witnesses." Gray eyes swiveled over to scan Grant's lean form. "New FBI guy?"

Gibbs nodded. "McGee - computers. Mars - missing persons." The introductions were minimal and as soon as they were made Gibbs moved over to talk to the supervisor of the local law enforcement.

McGee stuck a hand out for Grant to shake. "Tim McGee, NCIS. I do computer analysis. You're with the Missing Persons Unit?"

Grant nodded as he shook McGee's hand briefly and swallowed another sip of the coffee he'd reclaimed. "Grant Mars." Before he got a chance to elaborate another man interrupted.

"Probie." He nodded to McGee. Green eyes glanced off Grant's face. "Hey, Mars." He reached out in an unconscious movement that appeared to have been performed countless times and snagged Grant's mug from surprise slackened fingers. Tony DiNozzo took a large gulp of the stolen coffee and grimaced. "Damn, Marvin, when are you gonna drink coffee that doesn't put you in a sugar coma? And it's _cold_. _Yuck_." He gave the mug back with a shudder and spoke to McGee again. "Ziva says she's ready to go, you got everything?" He swung a high tech camera from its strap as he walked away without waiting for an answer.

Tim watched as the stunned surprise faded from Grant's handsome face. "I take it you already know Tony." He observed.

Grant nodded. "We worked together in Baltimore." He cursed internally for not noticing that Tony had been there. He'd been too distracted by his inability to help process the area to pay much attention to the people who'd actually been _doing_ the work. He sipped his thankfully almost finished coffee. "We were partners for almost a year before I transferred to Boston." Both men watched Tony's retreating form as he faltered in his footsteps, stopped for a moment, shook his head and then whirled around and strode back with long, ground-eating strides.

"Ok, someone wanna tell me why he's here?" Tony spoke to McGee but stared at his ex-partner. He seemed to realize he was being less than friendly and he smiled, patented DiNozzo number 12, the 'always put the person you punched in the face the last time you saw them at ease' version.

"I'm with the FBI now, Dino." Grant used the old nickname deliberately, letting his old friend know that he harbored no hard feelings. "It would seem that the creep I've been chasing for three and a half years has just made a huge mistake." He drained the last of his coffee and nodded to McGee, suddenly uncomfortable with the proximity of his old friend. "I have all my case files on a computer but since I'm not very literate with those things, I wonder if you'd like to take a look."

McGee blinked, ducked under the yellow tape and glanced at Tony, whose handsome face had gone blank with the FBI agent's apparent dismissal. "Um... yeah, sure. I can do that."

Grant nodded briskly and turned away. "It's in my car. I can give it to you now if you'd like."

Tony watched in barely concealed shock as Mars walked away without another word. He glared at McGee. "I better never hear you call me 'Dino' if you don't want your keyboard superglued." He paused for effect. "Again."

Tim nodded as he beat a fast retreat in the direction Mars had gone. Tony watched as the shorter man unlocked the not _quite_ familiar Honda, threw the big blue mug into the back seat and withdrew a leather case from the front passenger floorboard. He felt Gibbs approach from the side. "Something wrong, DiNozzo?" Jethro thought he knew the answer but wanted his Senior Field Agent to say it aloud.

Tony shook his head but didn't take his eyes off the two men next to the plain black coupe. "Nothing, Boss." He denied as he slipped his sunglasses out of his pocket and onto his nose.

"Can't be easy." Gibbs mused quietly.

"What can't?" Tony pulled his gaze away from Mars and glanced at Gibbs.

"Seeing someone you last saw under less than friendly circumstances." Jethro was expecting another denial. He wasn't disappointed.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Boss." Tony turned away. "I'll see if Ziva's ready to go back to the office." He walked away before he could be questioned further.

Several yards away, next to the Honda...

Grant handed the expensive leather case to McGee. "This represents 98 percent of my savings. It took me three weeks to scan all the files in, so please take good care of it. Even if I don't know how to use it very well, it'd be a shame to let it get ruined."

Tim nodded as he carefully accepted the case. "I'll figure it out for you. If you want, either Abby or I can teach you how to use it." He offered.

"Who's Abby?" Grant frowned, Tim had mentioned someone by that name earlier.

"She's our forensic scientist." Tim smiled fondly, there wasn't anyone like their Abby.

"Ah." Grant nodded distractedly, his mind conjured visions of an older woman in a severely tailored suit, lab coat, glasses, no makeup and with graying hair pulled up in a tight bun. He could work with that. What he wasn't sure of was if he could work with Tony again. Their parting had _not_ been friendly.

Next to the NCIS truck...

As Tony helped Ziva David load the equipment they'd used back into the van, his thoughts were centered on his ex-partner. He knew that Grant was only a year older then he himself was and, while at first glance he'd appeared unchanged, on closer inspection the shorter man had looked as if he'd aged a lot more than the six years it'd been since they'd last seen each other. Grant was far thinner than Tony had ever seen him before and he looked as if he lived on caffeine and cigarettes even though he hadn't smelled of smoke the way he used to. Tony's agile mind boggled over the changes not only in the other man but in the car he drove. The FBI agent was a far cry from the man Tony had worked beside and hung out with for nearly a year and the NCIS agent made up his mind right then to find out what had changed the man he once considered his best friend.

McGee joined them, carefully tucking the computer case into a secure slot in the equipment van. "Mars is going to follow us back to the office." He said mildly, avoiding Tony's piercing look. "Apparently this is now a joint investigation."

"Who's Mars?" Ziva asked, her slight Israeli accent drew the name out a little.

"FBI." Gibbs spoke as he walked up behind them. "He's been tracking the dirtbag we are now after for over three years. He's got a lot of information that could help us nail this one." He pinned each of them with a glare. "We set?"

"Yes, Boss." Came from all three agents as they moved around to climb into the van.

_**TBC**_


	3. Memories And Red Bull

Memories And Red Bull

062908

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Summary: Tony remembers their last meeting, Grant meets Abby.

Reviews: Yes please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

A/N: Thank you to those who took the time to review. It's a warm fuzzy to get those lovely compliments in the email. This chapter ends awkwardly but the story gets a little more background detail.

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Chapter 3

The first thing Tony DiNozzo did when he got to his desk was to reach into the bottom drawer and pull out the very large bottle of superglue he kept on hand. He glared meaningfully at McGee and waggled it slightly before prominently placing it next to his own keyboard. Ziva watched the Senior Field Agent with calm curiosity. But the elevator doors opening behind them forestalled any observation she might have made.

Grant Mars followed Gibbs into the bullpen with no small amount of trepidation. It had been over six years since he'd worked with Tony and the last time they'd seen each other they had argued viciously and violently. Grant rubbed a slender finger over his nose in remembered pain. Tony noted the movement his ex-partner made from the corner of his eye. He closed his green eyes briefly as the memory of that last argument drifted through his mind.

_"What do you mean you can't tell me what you're doing? We're partners! Are you working a case without me?" Grant's suspicions were beginning to put him in danger. They'd been quarreling for days over Tony's secrecy and now things were coming to a head and Tony had to get Grant out of his way so he could finish the case and be free to tell his partner everything. But until that happened Grant __**had**__ to be kept out of the loop and in the clear. There was no way Tony would be able to tell him what was going on and still keep them both alive. So he lied._

_With a snort, Tony dismissed his partner's accusation. "Of __**course**__ I'm not working a case. What's wrong with me having a life? Why? Are you jealous?" He knew that wasn't true. Grant was secure in his own identity and purpose in life. Just like Tony, he was a cop, through and through. Both of them were dedicated to their jobs. They worked hard and played hard, usually together as their private lives were remarkably similar both in interests and pastimes. They were both avid athletes and enjoyed nothing more than catching a pick up game of football or basketball at the park. The biggest difference in their interests was Tony obsession with old movies. Grant couldn't see the point in sitting for hours watching something that had been filmed before either of them had been born. The shorter man had diversely different taste in movies and now Tony was willing to use that to his advantage. In fact, he was willing to go to _**_any_**_ lengths to get his partner to just go _**_away_**_. _

_"Ok. I'm sorry. I just thought..." Grant began but Tony interrupted, his tone derisive. _

_"You just thought what? That just because we're partners we have to live in each other's pockets? That I don't need or want a little space? Maybe I'm just tired of always having to hang out with you. I do meet other people you know. I'd like to have a few more dates and a lot less guy time. I like you and all, just not _**_that_**_ way." Tony internally winced at the last comment but he knew it would be the one thing to get Mars to back off. Being slight in build with pretty, rather than masculine, features had caused Grant a lot of teasing throughout his life. Tony knew that Grant was as straight as they come but was choosier about his dating habits than Tony was. While he'd been expecting the hurt that flashed through Grant's dark blue eyes, he wasn't prepared for the guilt he felt at putting it there. They'd both moved to Baltimore from different cities, although a year apart, and had been assigned together from the day Grant had arrived. With his year of seniority, Tony had been the one to befriend the lonely newcomer. He'd been delighted to discover that the Grant who showed up for work early every day was not what he seemed. But now, with lives at stake, Tony was forcing an argument with his best friend, pushing him away and possibly destroying their partnership. He silently cursed himself for accepting the assignment but had been virtually blackmailed into it by their asshole of a captain. _

_Tony slung his arm over Grant's shoulders and steered him towards his front door. "Why don't you go and rent one of those travesties you call a movie and go home? If I get desperate enough in a couple of days I'll give you a call. But in the mean time why don't we just keep this a working relationship?" The Italian silently prayed his partner would just go already, the longer he stayed the worse it would be._

_The sudden temper that replaced the hurt and confusion made Grant shrug Tony's arm off. "Fine. I'm out of here. If you don't want to tell me what's going on why don't I just go in and ask the captain?" _

_"There's nothing going on so it wouldn't do you any good now, would it, Rookie?" The use of the nickname Tony'd dispensed with after only a month infuriated Grant. _

_"Rookie? After all this time that's all I am to you?" He yelled._

_"Yeah, just a rookie, so why don't you get out of here and let me do what I _**_want_**_ to do for a change." Tony shot back as his fists clenched. __'Just __**go **__already__.' He thought. __'I don't know how __much longer I can hold out on __you__.'_

_"You son of a bitch!" Grant's punch caught Tony by surprise, in the stomach, and was full of pained rage._

_"That's the way you want to play it? Fine!" Tony growled as his own fist connected with Grant's nose. The shorter man went down like a ton of bricks, unconscious before he hit the floor. _

_The nausea Tony felt deep in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the punch Grant had connected. Tony squatted down and eased his partner upright enough to pick him up. Being several inches shorter and a good thirty pounds lighter made it easy for Tony to lift Grant into his arms. With only a little difficulty, he got the door open and carried his unconscious partner down to the street. Once outside, Tony hailed a cab and carefully placed Grant into the back seat. He flashed his badge at the driver and made it obvious that he was making note of the name on the license displayed. _

_"Now, Manny. This man is a detective with the Baltimore PD. I need you to get him to the hospital, make sure he's taken care of and that nothing happens to him on the way." Tony fished out a fifty dollar bill and his card. "I find out anything different and there won't be anywhere you can hide from me. Understand?" _

_"Yeah, I understand. Why ain't you goin with?" The cabbie flipped down the flag on the meter._

_"I have work to do." Tony made sure the seatbelt was fastened around Grant's slender waist. Green eyes scanned the slack features of his best friend. Grant's nose was obviously broken, blood trickled out of the nostrils and his eyes were beginning to blacken. Tony took a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it gently to the sluggish stream. His voice lowered so the driver wouldn't overhear. "I'm sorry, Marvin. You'll understand later. At least this way one of us stays alive." _

_Three days later, with the case wrapped up and his skin intact - although it had been a _**_very_**_ close call - Tony had returned to work ready and able to tell his partner everything but Grant's desk had been cleaned out. The Duty Officer had informed Tony that Grant had been placed on medical leave after an off duty mugging and had requested a transfer to the Boston PD effective as soon as he was medically cleared to return to work. As soon as he'd been able, Tony had made a beeline for Grant's apartment, only to find it empty. Tony had never been able to explain himself to his friend and the guilt he'd felt over the entire debacle had led him to make the decision to never again allow himself to become close to the people he worked with. For six months that policy had worked... then he'd gone to work for NCIS and had found Abby. _

A headslap brought Tony back to the present. "Don't you have work to do, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as he passed, Grant trailing uncertainly in his wake. The FBI agent carefully avoided looking at anything for longer than a few seconds before deciding the floor was a safe bet.

"Yes, Boss." Tony turned resolutely around and switched his computer on. There wasn't much he could do until Abby had performed her magic and he was certain Gibbs knew that but there was no further comment.

"McGee, did you get _everything_ Abby needed?" Gibbs turned his attention to the computer tech.

"Um... no, Boss. I thought you were..." Tim broke off when Gibbs _glared_.

"If I had, would I be asking _you_?" Jethro internally smirked when McGee wavered. "Take Mars with you."

Grant's head shot up at the statement, his contemplation of the floor successfully diverted. He'd been studiously trying to remain unobserved and out of the way, his self-esteem had been destroyed after the disastrous collaboration with the New York office and subsequent transfer to DC. Before that ego-shattering experience he would have walked into the NCIS office with more than his fair share of confidence and belief in his abilities. Deep down he still _knew_ he was a good agent but the ball-busting Agent Johnson had done her best to crush that knowledge. In just a few weeks she had taken over a case he'd devoted more than three years to and had virtually kicked him to the curb. Not only that but they'd **_had_** the guy and she'd let NYPD cut him loose. He was still _technically_ on the case but all his evidence and original case files had remained in New York with _her_ task force. He'd been very thankful he'd thought to copy all the files before his trip to New York. Suddenly he was happy that Romar had screwed up as he had. Maybe NCIS could help him finally catch the bastard. Still, his feelings of inadequacy would take a long time to disperse. So he obediently turned back towards the elevator when Tim motioned for him to follow.

As soon as the doors closed behind the two men, Gibbs turned his attention back to Tony. "Are you going to be ok with this?" The question was too quiet for Ziva to hear properly.

To his credit, Tony seriously considered the question knowing he'd be in for another smack if he answered too quickly. "I'll do my best, Boss." He answered honestly.

Downstairs...

Grant followed McGee as they exited elevator and left the building with a confused frown on his face. "Um... excuse me." He ventured quietly.

Tim turned slightly with a smile but continued on his way into the convenience store three buildings over. "Yeah?" He asked.

"What are we doing?" Grant asked as he watched Tim buy a gigantic drink.

"Getting something for Abby. Did you want anything?" McGee accepted the cup and turned back to Grant, who spared a longing thought to the Red Bull he'd left in his car.

"Yeah, I think I do." The FBI agent mused as he went over to the cooler, pulled out one of the new extra large cans of the drink and carried it to the register.

"Here. It's on us." Tim handed the huge cup to Grant and pulled his wallet out of his pocket again.

"No, its fine, I've got it." Grant protested.

"Gibbs gives us an allowance for Abby's _supplies_." McGee told him cheerfully as he paid for Grant's drink. "Here, trade." He handed the can to Grant and regained custody of Abby's cup. It was a very bemused FBI agent who followed Tim back to the NCIS building.

Nearly thirty minutes after they'd left the bullpen, Tim and Grant walked out of the elevator into a cacophony of music. The sound of it made Grant long for his stereo and CDs all of which were still packed away in his miniscule apartment. The sign on the door read "Forensics" but there was nothing that Grant recognized as a lab. The FBI agent hung back as McGee walked fearlessly into the din and flipped a switch on the stereo, silencing the music.

"_**Hey**_!" An angry female voice yelped in the sudden calm. Grant blinked as she moved into view. His dark blue gaze started at the top - which was at least two inches higher than his own - of her head full of black hair, past the double ponytails, over the crystal blue eyes highlighted by straight black bangs, onto the dark red lips, down the black suspenders that draped over a snug red T-shirt and supported the black pleated miniskirt before ending at the bottom of her platform boots. He gulped and popped the top of his Red Bull.

"Hey, Timmy." She smiled brightly as she accepted the cup and took a long drink. "Tell Gibbs I haven't had time to get any tests done, my babies need more time considering the teeny, tiny amount of evidence you brought back. Who's that?"

Grant blinked again at the rapid-fire delivery. Tim grinned at the bemusement on the shorter man's face. "Abby, this is Grant Mars, FBI, Missing Persons Unit. He's been tracking the guy we think is responsible for Petty Officer Parker's disappearance. Grant, this is Abigail Sciuto, Forensic Scientist Extraordinaire."

Abby's crystalline gaze swept over the gelled medium brown curls, sapphire eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes, straight nose, neatly knotted tie, spotless suit and ended at the highly polished dark brown shoes. Her smile would have terrified everyone who knew her well. Tim's grin evaporated at the sight.

"No, Abby. You can't. Fornell would kill us all." Tim warned her fearfully.

She pouted as she watched Grant glance nervously back and forth between them. Apprehension darkened the sapphire gaze. "But Timmy, he's cute."

Grant smiled then and relaxed a bit. "Thank you." He murmured. "Did you know that they just released an anthology?" He motioned towards the stereo with the hand that held the Red Bull.

Abby's smile returned. "Hidden depths. I like that." She purred.

"Plumb them later, what do you have for me?" Gibbs startled them all when he spoke from behind McGee.

"Nothing yet." Abby snapped back to business with a swiftness that should have left them all in the dust but Gibbs and McGee were used to it. Grant hid a grin as he recognized the trait. "You have to give me more stuff and more time if you want results." She paused to slurp some more of her drink. "But..." She continued confidently. "If there's anything to find, my babies and I will find it."

**_TBC_**


	4. Confrontational Tony

Confrontational Tony

070208

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing here.

Summary: Attraction, realization and confrontation.

Reviews: Yes please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!!

A/N: This chapter is relatively short. I had no way to track word counts in the mail draft program I used during the initial writing. It feels kind of awkward as well but couldn't figure out how to fix it. I hope all of you will give it a chance though. Read, review and criticize if you wish but give me your thoughts please. I will if you will.

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Chapter 4

Abby grinned widely as Gibbs drew McGee off to the side for a semi-private conference. Her brilliant blue gaze roamed over Grant's compact form as if imagining what he'd look like without the suit. She seemed to like the image. She moved over, flipped the switch and turned the music back on, although a glare from Gibbs had her lowering the volume to less than ear bleeding levels. She grasped the FBI agent's slender hand and pulled him farther into her labyrinth. He allowed himself to be led. McGee watched with concern in his soft gray eyes as if fearful she'd hurt the seemingly timid agent.

"He'll be fine, McGee. He used to work with Tony so he should be able to defend himself. Don't you think?" Gibbs growled but there was an underlying thread of amusement.

"You're right, Boss. It's just that he seems so... " Tim paused, unsure how to express his 'gut feeling'. He and Abby had been involved but it had evolved into a close friendship rather than advancing to a more intense romance. He harbored no jealousy towards the Goth but continued to worry about her emotional wellbeing. He didn't want to see her brokenhearted. He didn't know Grant Mars and wasn't sure _any_ former friend of Anthony DiNozzo could be trusted.

"Appearances, McGee, are seldom what they appear to be." The younger agent frowned in confusion at Gibbs' cryptic statement. "Take a closer look." Jethro continued. Tim did. While it appeared at first that Abby was intimidating the newcomer, after observing the couple a few more minutes, it became clear that the FBI agent was asking about Abby's equipment and she was animatingly telling him all about her babies. Grant was letting her do nearly all the talking, which did not surprise McGee at all - Abby loved to talk - but she was not getting what _she_ nearly _always_ got, a lot of information from the other person. A tiny smile was playing across Grant's mouth as he listened to Abby's chatter.

"It _appears." _Jethro stressed the word. "That our little Abs has met her match. She won't find out anything about Mars that he doesn't want her to know."

"Ah." Tim said and nodded his head but he clearly did not understand. Gibbs rewarded him with a small headslap.

"Come on. We need the info that's in his computer." The Team Leader said as he turned towards the elevator. As they'd left the crime scene, McGee had filled him in on the laptop Grant had entrusted to their care. Gibbs paused, irritated, as McGee hesitated.

"Are we just gonna leave him down here?" Tim asked, still unsure of the wisdom of such an act.

"He'll be _fine_." Gibbs reiterated irritably.

Still McGee hesitated and went so far as to take a step back towards the lab. He raised his voice so he could be heard over the music. "Hey, we're just gonna go back upstairs. Are you ok here or do you want to go with?"

Abby whirled around and glared at her friend. "He's _fine_, Timmy." She stated warningly. She turned back to Grant with a blinding smile. "Isn't that right?"

Amusement threaded through Grant's voice as he agreed with the Goth. "I'm fine. Abby is telling me what all these gadgets do for her." He took a leisurely sip of his energy drink before winking at her.

The scientist grinned as Gibbs impatiently tugged McGee from the lab. "I expect _results_ when I get back." The ex-marine called back over his shoulder.

"I thought they'd never leave." She purred.

Grant returned the grin with a brilliant one of his own. "Why is McGee so afraid that Fornell will be angry that he left me here with you?"

Abby's smile turned evil. "No reason." She lied.

The gleam in Grant's gaze belied the swift disappearance of all humor from his face. "Are you lying to an agent of the FBI, Ms Sciuto?" His smooth voice sent a shiver down her spine.

Her crystal blue eyes widened in faux innocence. "Why no." She shook her head vigorously. "I would _never_ lie to _any_ Federal Agent." She lied again.

"That's good to know." Grant's voice lowered as his gaze was captured by the movements of her lips. Anything else they might have said to each other was lost when the LCD display next to them dinged out a warning as it halted on a set of fingerprints and a photo.

Upstairs...

Tony looked up from his computer as the elevator chimed its arrival. His face froze as he noticed that only Gibbs and McGee exited. He stood up in alarm. "Where's Mars?"

Tim's round face reflected his unease. "In the lab with Abby."

Tony paled. "Oh no, you _didn't_." He stalked over and grabbed Tim by the jacket. "Tell me you did _not_ leave them alone together."

"But... but... Gibbs said it would be ok." The younger agent stammered. "He said Abby wouldn't hurt Grant."

"It's not _Grant_ I'm worried about." Tony snarled and glowered at his boss as the older man strolled past them on his way to his own desk. With a small shove he let go of McGee, stomped into the elevator and jabbed at the button.

Gibbs smirked, settling into his desk chair, as the doors closed and the floor lights began their descent. McGee swallowed audibly. "Um... Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?" Tim asked hesitantly.

"Tony has issues he needs to deal with." Gibbs told the younger man. "Now, how about that computer?" He pointedly glared at Tim's desk where Grant's computer resided.

Tim sat down. "On it, Boss." He whistled as he pulled the state of the art machine out of the expensive leather case. "Wow. He told me it represented most of his savings, he wasn't joking." He opened the laptop, hit the power button and grinned. "Good, it's got full battery. Now, let's see what's in here." He began to check the files. "It's gonna take some time to sort though this, Looks like he just scanned everything into one file." He shook his head in disbelief. "I might have to have Abs help me on this one."

Abby's lab...

The couple involved in the intense discussion didn't hear the elevator's arrival. One LCD screen was showing a mug shot with corresponding prints while yet another one flashed as it ran its own search program. Tony paused at the door and watched for a moment. His green gaze sharpened as he watched Grant's slender hand reach up and pull the neck of Abby's T-shirt to the side so he could get a closer look at her spider web tattoo. After a few seconds of admiration he let the shirt slide back into place. Long fingers fondled the thin leather collar that enhanced the black design. The uncharacteristic shyly abashed smile on Grant's face nearly broke Tony's heart as he watched Grant pull his hand down and begin to fiddle with the cuff of his shirt that peeked out of the suit jacket sleeve. Tony was achingly aware of what lay underneath that shirt cuff. It was one of the reasons he'd been so drawn to Abby. The perky Goth had almost single handedly healed the hole the loss of Grant's friendship had created in Tony's life. The scientist was seated in her favorite chair with Grant sitting next to her in a similar chair. They were very close together with their heads mere inches apart as they talked. The flashing screen above them stopped suddenly while the computer that ran it beeped out a warning. Both heads flew up as the alarm sounded. Abby bounced in place.

"Is that him?" She asked Grant excitedly.

"Yeah." He replied quietly. "Franklin Romar. The New York PD had him six months ago but they let him go _forty-five_ **_minutes_** before our witness could identify him. He instantly disappeared. Two days later I walked out on the task force _I'd_ helped set up and five months after that I got transferred out of the Boston office. This is the first lead I've gotten since then."

"Why'd they let him go?" Abby chewed on the straw of her Caff-Pow drink, a frown on her pretty face.

Bitterness roughened Grant's voice. "They didn't have cause to keep him. He'd pretended to be a witness. By the time we discovered differently it was too late, they'd cut him loose. They acted like it was no big deal. I'd been after this creep for over three years and they just turned him back out onto the street." He finished his Red Bull and crushed the can in his hand, anger in the unconscious motion.

Tony could now understand _part_ of what had so drastically changed his old friend. He'd come down to the lab with the idea of keeping Grant and Abby apart, he couldn't stand the thought of losing yet another best friend. He winced, that didn't make sense even to himself but then logic had never gotten a look in when he'd been dealing with either Abby _or_ Grant, they both meant too much to him. With a silent sigh, Tony admitted that Grant Mars was unfinished business and was still very important. He'd missed Grant fiercely for years, he just hadn't realized it. Subconsciously, he'd come down to the lab with the intention of confronting Grant over the way he'd left Baltimore but residual guilt over his own lies stopped him. Without intending to, he spoke. "I was undercover. I couldn't tell you without getting you killed."

Grant's head whipped around and the squashed can fell from suddenly nerveless fingers. He slipped off the chair, preferring to stand for this conversation. He hadn't wanted to face the issue so soon but he'd never been able to get Tony to hold off on difficult discussions... until that final argument. "Yeah, I know." He admitted quietly. "One of the guys called a couple of days after you got back. You were pissing people off and they wanted me to come back and pull you back in line." His dark blue gaze flicked up to Tony's face and away again.

"Why didn't you?" Tony asked so quietly Grant almost missed the question. The Italian walked farther into the lab until he was only a couple of feet away from his ex-partner.

"I couldn't." The FBI agent admitted.

"Couldn't or _wouldn't_?" This time Tony couldn't keep the accusation from his voice.

"_Ok_, _fine_! **_Wouldn't_**. _All_ **_right_**?" Grant yelled as his temper flared. "You broke my _nose_, Tony. You didn't trust me to watch your back. We'd worked together for a _year_ and you threw it all away for..."

"_To_ _save_ _your_ _**life**_!" Tony interrupted furiously. "_And_ _your_ _**career**_. The captain swore he'd ruin you if I told you what I was doing. Did you _really_ think I'd turn on you that _**fast**_? After all we'd been through and all the time we spent together? You were my _best_ **_friend_**, damn it!"

"I didn't know _what_ to think!" Grant admitted but the heat had gone from his voice. He shoved suddenly shaky hands through his hair and spun away from Tony. "Look, I can't do this right now, ok? I just want to catch this guy once and for all."

"Fine. But we're not through with this." Tony's green eyes stared at Grant's back for several minutes before he turned to the wide-eyed Abby.

Grant nodded tensely and walked toward the elevator. "I'm going to see if McGee needs help with my computer." He didn't look as he jabbed at the buttons, willing the doors to close quickly. He didn't notice that he was going down rather than up. He paused on the threshold, blocking the doors and blanched in shock when he realized that the only room in sight was a morgue. Grant _seriously_ did **_not_** like morgues.

_**TBC**_


	5. Oh God, Another One

Oh God, Another One

Disclaimer: If you recognize them, they're not mine.

Summary: Tony spills a secret.

Reviews: Yes please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

A/N: For the purposes of this fic we're pretending we can see the elevator from Abby's lab. Ok with you? This chap is a bit longer than the last one. Hope y'all like it.

I now have a new computer and as soon as I can figure out how to recover the info on the old one I'll work on updating The Demon Within and Resurrected will get its long overdue finish.

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Chapter 5

Doctor Donald 'Ducky' Mallard looked up as his peripheral vision picked up the motion of the elevator doors opening but frowned when the young man within it paused on the threshold before retreating. Watching closely, he noticed that the doors didn't close. The Medical Examiner moved enough that the automatic doors swished open. He flipped the switch to prevent them from closing behind him and ventured cautiously forward. He heard a low male voice muttering frantically and the sound of the control panel buttons being pushed harder than necessary.

"Hello? May I help you?" The elderly doctor asked as he slowly approached toward the open elevator. All noises from inside stopped as he did.

"Hello?" Ducky asked again as he neared the opening. To his surprise, the only occupant was backed into the farthest corner with his arms clenched tightly around his own waist. The young man appeared to be in his mid-thirties, slender and well dressed. The M.E. could not determine what color the man's eyes were as they were tightly closed. His delicate features were pale and covered with a sheen of sweat.

"Oh, dear me." Ducky murmured. "Are you injured?" He asked gently. The man shook his head fractionally as he began to breathe hard in fear. "Well, surely you don't want to stay in there all day." There was no reaction. "How can I help you?" There was a response but not one that eased the doctor's mind. The visitor turned away as far as he could and slid slowly down the wall until he was seated on the elevator floor. Carefully, keeping his eyes pinned on his unexpected company, Ducky raised his voice. "Mr. Palmer."

"Yes, Dr Mallard?" The assistant M.E. looked up from his desk at the summons.

"Would you call Gibbs and ask him if he's lost a visitor?" Ducky tried to get a closer look at the visitor's pass pinned to the lapel of the suit coat but the position of the thin body prevented him from reading it. As he listened to the young man's breathing, the doctor began to worry that he'd hyperventilate. "And quickly, please."

"Yes, sir." The younger doctor picked up the phone and punched the buttons as fast as he could.

**Upstairs in Abby's lab...**

Abby's huge blue eyes gazed steadily at Tony. "So that's Marvin." She said softly.

Tony smiled at her. "Yeah." The smile disappeared. "He's changed a lot."

"Oh, I don't think he's changed as much as you think he has. I like him." Abby assured her friend. She glanced over at the elevator, surprised that Gibbs hadn't paid a return visit. She frowned when she noticed the floor indicator.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked as he noticed the frown.

"I thought you told me that Grant wouldn't be caught dead in a morgue." The Goth mused.

"You know he wouldn't. At least, not if he can help it. Why?" Tony frowned in confusion.

"Because..." Abby said slowly as she hopped off her chair and headed for the stairs. "The elevator went down to Ducky's floor and hasn't come back up.

"Aw crap." Tony followed her through the door to the stairwell. "Next time you tell someone I'm a trouble magnet, remember this day."

"Why?" She asked as they began their descent.

"Because Grant Mars makes me look like trouble _repellent_ by comparison." Tony flashed her a quick grin as she shot him a shocked look over her shoulder. They said nothing more as they rushed down the stairs and through the door into Autopsy.

Jimmy Palmer set the phone receiver back in its cradle as they shoved their way past his little desk. "Agent Gibbs is on his way down." He told them.

"Swell." Tony muttered as he and Abby paused at the sight of Ducky standing uncertainly next to the open elevator.

"Oh thank goodness, Anthony, Abigail. Have you misplaced someone?" The doctor asked softly as he gestured into the elevator.

Tony entered the car and knelt next to his old friend, his green eyes assessing the too-pale face, the tightly closed eyes and the 'don't see me' posture. "Ah, Mars." He sighed. "What'd I tell you about visiting cold storage?"

For long seconds it appeared that the traumatized FBI agent hadn't heard but finally he whispered. "Dino?"

Tony closed his eyes in relief for a moment. "Yeah, buddy. It's me. What happened?"

"The doors wouldn't close." Grant told him shakily.

Tony swiveled his head and assessed the control panel. "That's because you jammed the controls. We're gonna have to call maintenance to fix it." He chided gently.

Grant chuckled but the sound was slightly hysterical. "Figures."

"So." The Italian began softly. "You gonna stay in here the rest of the day or are you gonna come out and meet Ducky?"

Grant bowed his head and rested his forehead on his knees for a moment. "Are there any... um...?" He couldn't force himself to finish the question.

Tony glanced back at the kindly doctor. "Got any customers today, Ducky?"

"No, Anthony. If that is your young friend's fear, please assure him that we are lacking in... ah... customers, as you say." The M.E. answered.

"Hear that?" Tony said gently. "It's your lucky day." He studied Grant's profile and sighed. "I thought we got you over this. What set you back?"

"I didn't expect to find it. I thought I was going back up to your office." Grant shuddered. "I've been... um... under a lot of stress lately." His voice lowered even farther. "Nightmares."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, I can see where that'd do it. Come on. Up you get." He slid his hand under Grant's firm bicep, tugging as he rose.

With Tony's help, Grant struggled to his feet only to sag against the stainless steel wall as his vision blurred. "Um... Tony?" He gasped. "I'm not... feeling so... hot."

"Stay with me, Marvin." An uneasy feeling swept over Tony, settling in the pit of his stomach. "Damn, when'd you eat last?" He asked urgently. He shook Grant lightly as his head lolled backwards. "_**Grant**_! _When_... _did_ ... _you_... _eat_... _last_?" He demanded an answer.

The shorter man's eyelashes fluttered as he attempted to raise his head and fix his hazy gaze on his friend. "Um... eat? I... think... last... night? Um... maybe... Chinese." With that, he slumped.

"You put that big-ass Red Bull in an empty stomach? How old are you again? Five? Jeeze Mars, what am I supposed to do with you?" Tony bitched as he caught his unconscious friend in a fireman's carry, the too-slender body dangled limply over one broad shoulder.

"Well, at least we can get you out of here and _without_ tranquilizers _this_ time but I'm _not_ sure this is an _improvement_. You _seriously_ need a keeper, pal." He continued a litany of complaints as he hauled his old friend out of the elevator, through the doors and into the main autopsy room. "Can I put him on your sofa? If he wakes up on a table we'll have a _complete_ basket case on our hands."

"What's going on, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked. He'd come in just as Tony had entered the elevator.

"Let me put him down and I'll tell you." Tony followed Ducky to the old sofa the M.E. had placed in his office, preferring the comfortably worn cushions to the steel tables for catching quick naps during intensive investigations. Palmer fetched a blanket and Abby helped Tony settle the unconscious man comfortably. She knew some of what Tony was about to tell everyone so she stayed with Grant.

They huddled around Ducky's work table on the other side of the cavernous room. "I'm only telling you guys this so you'll understand where all that came from. But it goes no farther than this room. Are we clear?" Tony's tone brooked no argument. Gibbs frowned but nodded with the rest of them.

"Ok, most of this I got from Grant himself but I've witnessed his nightmares about it so I think there was a little more to it than he's told me." The Italian took a deep breath, leaned on Ducky's table and gazed at the unconscious form of one of the best friends he'd ever had.

"Grant's dad was a doctor and his mom a lawyer so they really didn't have much time for him. During school vacations they shuttled him from cousin to cousin, hired sitters, kept him in summer schools or, once in a great while, let him go to summer camp. His mom was supposed to take him to a cousin's house for the day but couldn't because the cousin had gotten sick with something contagious but I don't remember with what." Tony added as he saw the question forming on Ducky's face. The doctor nodded his understanding and kept quiet.

Tony closed his eyes and tried to recall the proper sequence of events as Grant had told him. "His mom had to be in court that day and was in a hurry so she dropped him off in the hospital parking lot and left. Grant was supposed to go straight to his dad's office and wait there for him. The kid hadn't been to his dad's office very many times and thought he could remember the way but pushed the wrong button in the elevator. As it happened, that particular elevator opened directly next to the morgue, just like this one does."

He opened his eyes again and scanned the listening agents around him, Gibbs, Ducky, Palmer, McGee and Ziva, the latter two had accompanied Gibbs as backup. He continued the story. "Now, Grant being a normal, inquisitive kid of ten years old decided that the morgue would be a cool place to hang out for a while. Who would know, right? His dad thought he was at the cousin's and his mom thought he was with his dad. So he checked the place out a bit, there weren't any bodies around and he knew enough to keep his hands off the instruments therefore it got boring so he settled down in an out of the way corner and decided to read a book. He dozed off while he was reading and was there for several hours when some EMTs delivered an accident victim. There'd been a serious pileup on the freeway. They were in a hurry so they dropped and ran so it was a few minutes before the M.E. came into the room. Grant just had to go over and see, you know? Ten years old and it was a dead body, of course he was gonna go look." Tony swallowed hard and gazed steadily at the floor.

Ducky got a cold shiver down his spine and suddenly knew where this story was going. "It was his mother wasn't it, Anthony?" He asked quietly. "That poor child."

Tony nodded, blinking rapidly. Memories of losing his own mother at the same age threatened to swamp him. He shuddered and collected himself. "Yeah, her airbag had failed and she'd broken her neck when her car had gotten rear-ended. It was a million in one death, you know? Apparently she didn't have any visible injuries, she looked like she was sleeping. Grant tried to wake her up but couldn't. He didn't know she was dead and it scared him when she didn't wake up. They must have been waiting for next of kin notification because he was with her for quite a while, watching her get colder and stiffer. After what felt to him to be an eternity, he heard the M.E. coming and knew he'd be in a lot of trouble if he got caught so he hid. Not the smartest thing in the world, I know, but his dad had an awful temper. The M.E. was between him and the door so he went back to his corner. He could see everything from there but for some reason no one noticed him, he was smaller than other kids his age, easier to overlook I guess." Tony's voice was quiet and sad for his friend.

"Thank _god_, he didn't have to watch his mother get autopsied, but he _did_ watch the M.E. put her into one of the drawers, that's when he came out. He attacked the guy, yelling and hitting. Fortunately, the M.E. was a friend of Dr. Mars and recognized Grant and his mom from the photo on his dad's desk. The kid was completely freaked out. An assistant came in and help the M.E. subdue him. They gave him a tranquilizer shot and then called his dad. Dr Mars had just been informed of his wife's death and had called the cousin's house to tell them. They told him that they didn't have the kid with them and Dr Mars was on the verge of his own freak out when the ME called. Grant found all that out later when he heard his aunt talking to someone at the funeral." Tony kept his gaze steady on the floor since looking up would have meant meeting the sympathetic gazes of his friends.

"How did he become a cop with that sort of phobia?" McGee asked.

"Therapy, Probie, lots and _lots_ of therapy." Tony answered seriously. "While we worked together we didn't have to visit the morgue often. Whenever we _did_ have to, he was skittish as all hell but he did it, _every_ _time_. For the longest time I gave him a lot of shit over it until once we had to go and it spooked him so much I took him out and got him drunk afterwards. That's when he told me all about it." Tony finally looked over at Abby as she sat holding Grant's lax hand. "He still has nightmares about it, especially if he's under a lot of stress."

"As he would be from this case." Ziva observed in her usual matter-of-fact manner.

"Yeah." Tony sighed. "As he would with this case. Combine that with not eating since last night and if I know Grant he didn't eat much then." Tony noticed Ducky checking his watch and frowning. "Put an extra large Red Bull in that empty stomach and there you go, out for the count." He turned his gaze back over to Abby and Grant. _'When did they start making an extra large size of that nasty crap._' He wondered to himself.

McGee flushed in consternation, he'd bought the drink after all. "But I thought Red Bull gave you a boost, kinda like Abby's Caff-Pow?" He turned the statement into a question.

Tony nodded. "They do, McGoo, but you have to eat _something_. Grant has a really bad habit of forgetting to eat while he's working. He also drinks too much coffee." He risked a glance at Gibbs, who raised his own coffee cup and took a gulp.

"No such thing." The Ex-Marine stated gruffly. "Ziva, how about you and McGee go and round up some lunch? We can't have Fornell complaining that we mistreated his agent, now can we?" He turned to his oldest friend. "Duck, what would you suggest we get?"

"Well," The M.E. began. "Soup would certainly be light enough..."

"No way." Tony interrupted. "Mars _hates_ soup. Pasta salad and garlic bread." He stated confidently.

Ducky regarded him curiously. "You seem to know him quite well."

Tony flashed his famous grin. "We worked together for a year and hung out together in our spare time." The smile faded. "He was my best friend." He pulled out his wallet and handed some bills to McGee. "Get me some too." He instructed.

Tim accepted the cash hesitantly. "What kind do I get?"

"Traditional, with the green, white and red Rotini pasta, black olives, croutons, Italian dressing and parmesan cheese. Lots of cheese, McGofer. Don't forget the garlic bread." Tony instructed.

"Um... where do I get all that?" Tim asked.

"Two blocks down and three blocks over, there's a little Italian restaurant, Mangioni's. Tell them Tony sent you, tell them what I want and that you need a double order of everything." Tony frowned as he noticed Abby leaning over Grant as he shifted on the couch.

McGee and Ziva spent a couple more minutes collecting money and orders from the rest before heading up the stairs.

Ducky also noticed the young FBI agent attempting to sit up and hurried over. "Take it easy." The M.E. instructed softly, resting one hand lightly on a slender shoulder. "I think you're all right but I'd like to check you out to make sure."

Grant pulled away sharply. "Sorry, sorry. Don't touch me, ok?" He tucked himself into the corner of the old sofa trying vainly to get away from the stranger dressed in blue scrubs. "Please. Just leave me alone."

Ducky looked over his shoulder at Tony. "My goodness. This takes me back to the time I worked with a rather nervous young man in South Africa. He..."

"Not now, Ducky." Gibbs murmured quietly as Tony gently pushed his way to the side of the sofa. Ducky moved back to give him room.

"Hey, Grant. How ya doin'?" The Senior Field Agent quietly asked his old friend.

Grant began to nibble on his fingernails. "Not so great." He admitted. "Lost a bunch of cool points today, yeah?"

Tony smiled fondly. "Nah, you lost those when you got the Rocketship painted."

A tiny spark of the old Grant lit his sapphire eyes. When he spoke he sounded exactly like Marvin the Martian from Looney Toons. "But I still have the Iludium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator."

Gibbs let a small smile grace his usually stern visage. He hid it behind his ever-present coffee cup. "Oh God, another one." He grumbled.

So focused was everyone on the ailing FBI agent, they didn't notice the arrival of another person until a question echoed through the lab. "Where in hell is my agent?"

_**TBC**_


	6. Being A Pest

Being A Pest

071108

Disclaimer: I don't own em, I just borrow them for a bit of torture once in a while.

Summary: Fornell visits and Tony's in trouble.

Reviews: Yes please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!!

A/N: This is another short chapter but ends in a good spot. You might've noticed that most of my fics tend to be slow moving in that several chapters cover a short amount of time. I prefer to concentrate on character development. After this chapter there are only three more that are already written so I need to get my junky trunk in gear and start writing in order to keep up with the fast pace of this particular genre.

Thanks for the lovely reviews.

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Chapter 6

As soon as the new voice boomed through the morgue, Grant's dark blue eyes grew huge with panic. His head began to shake slowly. "No." he whispered. "He can't know. I'll lose my job." His voice was barely audible and his hands began to tremble again.

Tony turned to Gibbs with a visible plea in his green eyes. The Team Leader frowned but nodded. He looped an arm over Ducky's shoulder and whispered in the ME's ear. "Distract him." The Scotsman nodded with a twinkle in his eyes and left the office.

Louder, Gibbs addressed the others. "Abby? Are you feeling better?"

Almost quicker than the eye could see, Tony whipped the blanket off Grant and onto Abby. He pulled Grant to the edge of the sofa but did not make him stand up, he wanted to wait they could get food into him.

Ducky walked across the room to the man who was still a little breathless from descending the stairs. "Agent Fornell, what a pleasant surprise. I notice you're out of breath. Are you not getting enough exercise? I'm sorry but we've had a bit of problem with the elevator, there's something wrong with the control panel, you see. Did I hear you ask about an agent?"

Fornell, a balding man of medium height, scowled at the stream of words from the elderly doctor. "What's going on in there?" He motioned towards the small cluster of people he could see through the floor to ceiling plate glass wall but were blocking his view of the sofa.

Ducky threw a glance over his shoulder to assure himself that nothing could be ascertained from their angle. Palmer, picking up on Gibbs' cue, walked over to the older ME and, twisting the information about Mars just enough to fit, reported. "Abby says she'll be fine as soon as McGee and Ziva come back with lunch. She says she realizes it wasn't smart to drink all those Caff-Pows on an empty stomach."

Fornell scowled as he scrutinized the backs of the people still positioned by the sofa. He could now see his agent sitting next to the Goth scientist. "Are you sure it wasn't Mars that had a problem?" He commented loud enough to be heard through the open office door. He smirked when he saw DiNozzo rise from his crouch, slip through the doorway and head his way.

"What are you trying to imply?" Tony asked quietly.

Fornell didn't question the other man's interest in the situation. He'd read Mars' file before allowing the transfer and knew full well that Mars and DiNozzo had worked together quite closely for a year. He'd also noticed the extreme reluctance with which Mars approached just the mention of visiting a morgue. The younger agent had to almost visibly brace himself before entering a morgue and, as soon as he had what he needed, made sure he left as soon as possible.

"DiNutzo, did you really think I'd hire an agent without checking his file and employment history first? In the past month I've also noticed how much Agent Mars dislikes visiting morgues. What I figure happened here was that he wasn't paying attention to which button he pushed and when the elevator brought him down here he had a panic attack. He also has a bad habit of skipping meals. I may not be Gibbs but I _do_ pay attention to my new agents until I know they're gonna work out. If you'd prefer, I can get Agent Sacks to take over and you won't have to put up with Mars again."

Tony frowned. He seriously hated Agent Sacks. Not only that but he desperately wanted to mend his friendship with Grant. "_No_. We _don't_ want Slacks back. Mars has the intel we need for this case."

Fornell nodded with a smirk. "Yes, he does. In that computer he carries around but never uses."

Tony grimaced wryly. "Well, he was never much of a tech-geek." He lowered his voice so the others wouldn't hear. Ducky had drifted back into the office as soon as Fornell had revealed that their subterfuge hadn't worked. Palmer had retreated to his desk to place a call requesting repairs on the elevator. "You're not gonna fire him are you?"

The older FBI agent stared thoughtfully at Grant for enough time to make Tony very nervous. Finally he looked back at Tony. "If it made a difference, I wouldn't have approved the transfer in the first place." Fornell said slowly. "As long as it doesn't seriously interfere with his job, I'm not going to fire him. I understand you've got food coming?"

Tony hid his relief. "Yeah. Gibbs made McGee go pick it up. Too bad there won't be enough to share" He said, false disappointment evident in his tone.

Fornell's expression showed that he knew Tony didn't want him to stick around. "That's fine, I've already eaten. I just wanted to make sure Mars was making a pest of himself. This case has made him a bit mental, ya know?"

Tony smiled his patented 'you have no idea how wrong you are but I'm not telling you' version number 23. "Well, he can be a little... intense." He settled on commenting.

From the office, Grant watched his old friend work his magic on Fornell with no small amount of dread. "I'm _so_ fired." He muttered mournfully.

"I doubt that." Gibbs said.

Grant blinked up at him. "Why?"

"Because if he gives you any grief you just tell me and I'll give you something to use to defend yourself. He can't fire you over something he knew about when he hired you." The Team Leader smirked.

Grant's mind latched onto the phrase 'he knew about'. "He _knew_?" He began to panic again. "How _could_ he know? Do _you_ know?" He started to stand up, intending to leave. Abby put her hand on his arm in an attempt to restrain him. He shook her off and got to his feet but swayed as his vision blurred.

Gibbs put a hand on each slender shoulder and pushed Grant back down gently. "Easy. He knows because he read your file before he approved the transfer. _**I**_ know because he asked me to look your file over when he discovered your history with DiNozzo. He didn't want any conflict between the two of you to mess up any joint investigations. It's not hard to notice when one of your agents has an aversion 

to going into an area. All of your prior bosses noticed but it didn't affect your work so no one said anything other than the occasional note in the file. Fornell does _not_ know the specifics and it will stay that way if you want."

Startled sapphire eyes flew up to Gibbs' face. "Of _course_ I want it kept secret!" He blurted. A sickly suspicion curdled his already upset stomach. "Do _you_ know the reason?" He asked, his voice unnervingly low. Gibbs refrained from answering but Grant could read the truth in the older man's icy blue eyes. He looked around at the people surrounding him, noting the sympathy that was prevalent in their expressions. "_All_ of you know?" Silently, they nodded. His heart sank and embarrassment flushed his lean cheeks. Hatred seemed to sear the air as he glared at Tony's back through the glass wall. As far as he was concerned, Tony had just killed any hope of rekindling their old friendship.

DiNozzo stiffened suddenly as he watched Fornell exit through the stairwell door. He whirled around and his green eyes collided with the fiery rage in Grant's blue ones. A frown creased Tony's forehead and he rushed back into the office and over to the sofa. "Grant? What's wrong?" He asked, concern in his voice.

"_Get_ _away_ _from_ _me_." Grant growled at Tony, who blinked in shock at the tone.

_**TBC**_


	7. Lunch Is Served

Lunch Is Served

071508

Disclaimer: I know nothing….. ah…. I mean I own nothing.

Summary: Lunch.

Reviews: Yes please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

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Chapter 7

Tony's jaw dropped at the blatant hostility in Grant's low voice. But he was prevented from saying anything by Ziva's arrival behind him.

"McGee is setting the food up in the bullpen. Do you need help getting Agent Mars upstairs?" She asked, nothing more than polite courtesy in her attitude.

"_No_." Grant growled as he stubbornly attempted to rise from the sofa again. Gibbs, who hadn't moved away, caught the younger man as he wavered and then tipped forward.

"I _said_ take it easy." The ex-marine chided as he gently pushed Mars back down. "Do you want someone to bring your food down here?" He asked quietly.

"I didn't order any food." Grant mumbled, his tone disgruntled. "Just keep _DiNozzo_ away from me and we'll be good. I just need to catch my breath and I'll get out of your hair." He shoved shaking hands through his hair and rested his elbows on his knees.

Jethro tilted his head at the hatred in Grant's voice as he spoke Tony's name. He decided that it would be wise not to mention that Tony had paid for Grant's lunch. "It's on me." He said as he shot a meaningful glance at Tony's stunned expression. Suddenly the silver haired agent had the unsettling feeling he'd just adopted another misfit. He gave Abby a quick message in sign. "_Take them all out of here so I can talk to him_."

She nodded as she stood up."Ok, everyone. We'll let Gibbs handle this. Come on before the food gets cold." She began herding her teammates toward the stairwell.

"But… but…" Tony sputtered. "It's pasta salad. It's _supposed_ to be cold."

Abby smacked the tall man on the arm. "Well, then. Let's go eat before it gets warm." She shoved her best friend toward the stairs.

"Abs." She turned back to catch Gibbs' next silent message. "_Get Ducky to bring lunch down_."

She signed back. "_Ok, do you want coffee too_?" She grinned unrepentantly at the scowl that appeared to the unnecessary question, she'd seen him throw away the empty cup only a few moments before. She decided a quick retreat was in order and followed everyone back up the stairs leaving Gibbs alone with the FBI agent.

Jethro stared down at the younger agent's bent head before silently walking out in to the main room and snagging a chair from next to an unused desk. He placed the chair directly in front of Grant, sat on it and waited for several quiet minutes. He recalled part of his conversation with Tobias while the FBI Senior Agent considered allowing Mars' transfer.

"_If he's half the agent DiNutzo is, I can't pass him up just because of a little irrational fear." Tobias had grimaced as what he'd actually said dawned on him. "Never tell DiNutzo I said that. Swear Jethro."_ Jethro had sworn but had laughed at his old friend for weeks over his slip. Gibbs' face did not reflect his thoughts as he waited for Grant to say something. His patience paid off.

"He had no right to tell _anyone_." Grant muttered while staring steadfastly at the floor between his feet.

"It was something we needed to know to understand why you freaked out in the elevator." Gibbs replied. He paused and considered his next words carefully. "We all have issues from our pasts that affect us for the rest of our lives."

Grant grew very still. "Not like this." He said without looking up.

"That's true." Gibbs agreed mildly. "Some are worse."

Grant shuddered. "I can't imagine what would be worse." He paused to consider, his head tilted. "And I really don't want anyone to tell me."

Jethro huffed out what might have been a laugh. "Neither do I." Silence fell over the small office again.

"So," Grant began hesitantly. "You've got dirt on Fornell?"

The older man's steely blue eyes gleamed as he chuckled. "Oh yeah." But he waited until Grant brought his head up to gaze at him inquisitively. "He married my ex-wife."

Grant blinked, unsure that he'd heard correctly. "Um… Excuse me? He did _what_?"

Jethro nodded. "You heard me. It was my second wife and she left me for him. I told him not to do it but he thought he knew better. She took him to the cleaners... big-time." He grinned as Grant snickered.

"I don't know which is more disturbing, knowing that he married your ex or that she left _you_ for _him_." Grant shook his head in disbelief.

"Well, once you get to know me a bit better you'll understand." Gibbs replied with a smirk.

"Somehow I doubt that. Fornell is a dick." Grant's already pale face blanched even whiter and he looked panicked. "Please don't tell him I said that."

Jethro gazed at Grant thoughtfully. While Tobias Fornell _was_ a long time friend there was nothing preventing Jethro from admitting that said friend had his flaws. "Said what?" He deadpanned.

The younger man relaxed and shook his head. "Nothing. I never said anything."

It took all of Jethro's control not to burst into laughter at the obvious relief on the youthful face. His poker face must have slipped because Grant snuck a peek at him from under absurdly long lashes and began to chuckle.

"Well, you certainly sound as if you feel better." The refined British voice startled Grant. He jumped and retreated back into the corner of the sofa. All signs of humor vanished in a blink. The elderly ME placed his burdens on a steel table, wheeled it over and began pulling boxes and paper plates out of a plastic bag.

"Now I want you to eat as much as you are able. You've had quite a traumatic experience. I've also been given to understand that you often neglect to eat properly while you're working. That just won't do at all, my lad." Ducky instructed as he fussed with the portions. "Jethro, Abigail sent this to you." He handed the Team Leader a large styrofoam cup of coffee.

"_That's_ my girl." Gibbs sighed with pleasure as he inhaled the fragrance of the fresh black brew. He didn't notice the sharp glance his statement garnered from Grant. He _did_ notice that Ducky was dishing up three plates. "That looks good." He knew it would be fruitless to attempt to get out of sharing the meal. They'd never get Mars to eat if they didn't keep him company.

Grant's stomach rumbled as the rich scent of Italian dressing and garlic bread reached his nose. He reluctantly accepted the plate as Ducky offered it to him. "Thank you." He mumbled as he sampled the pasta. "_Right __**on**_, _lots_ of parmesan." He began to eat with enthusiasm, oblivious to the fact that Gibbs couldn't possibly have known what to order.

Ducky and Gibbs shared an amused glance as the younger man began to enjoy his meal.

**Upstairs...**

Tony slumped into his chair and glared at McGee as the younger agent slid a plate of food in front of him. "I'm not hungry." Tony shoved the plate back towards the edge of the desk.

Abby pushed it back. "You're never not hungry." She stated as she picked up a fork and helped herself to a huge bite of Tony's salad. "Oh! This is _great_!" She hopped up onto the corner of Tony's desk and settled in to help herself to more of his food.

Tony yelped as she slugged him on the arm. "What the Hell was _that_ for?" He complained.

"Why haven't you ever taken me to this restaurant?" The Goth pouted at her best friend.

"I don't know." Tony whined as he rubbed his arm. "Never thought of it." He ducked another swat. "Aw, come on, Abs. We'll go next weekend, ok?"

"Sweet!" Abby grinned as she pulled a big chunk from Tony's garlic bread. She handed him a plastic fork and nudged the salad back in front of him. "It really is great."

"It's Grant's favorite dish." Tony's green eyes grew troubled as he poked at the pasta. "Why is he so mad at me, Abs?"

The scientist sobered as her crystalline eyes studied his unhappy face. "I think it's because you explained his phobia."

"I had to." He protested. "I couldn't have Gibbs report to Fornell that Grant's a nut case."

"They already knew about the fear but not the reason for it." Abby tried to soothe him.

Tony nodded as he absently took a bite of pasta and then he frowned. "Wait. _Gibbs_ knew?" He groaned. "_How_?"

"When Fornell was reviewing Grant's file before approving the transfer he noticed that the two of you had worked together. He asked Gibbs to look the file over to see if he thought there'd be any conflict working joint cases. Obviously he said no." She explained quietly so no one could overhear.

Ziva looked over from her desk where she'd been devouring the lasagna that she'd ordered. "Tony?" She waited until he looked over at her. "You said you worked with Agent Mars before? Where was that?" She asked.

"Baltimore." Tony said shortly as he took a bite of what was left of his garlic bread. "Why?"

"You seem to know him like the top of your foot." The Israeli shrugged.

"That's the 'back of my hand', Zee-vah." Tony corrected her slang out of habit. "We _were_ pretty close. He was the best friend I'd ever had until I met Abs here." His appetite deserted him and he pushed his food away. "Again I ask you... why?"

Ziva frowned down at her food. "He does not seem to be anything like you. I do not understand how you came to be such good friends. He seems shy and does not appear to have any confidence. He seems to be very quiet."

Abby giggled. "It's the quiet ones you have to look out for." She squeaked when Tony took advantage of her proximity to pinch her.

"Well, Officer Da-veed," Tony exaggerated her last name as always. "when we worked together he would walk into a squad room and everyone would turn to look, he exuded that _much_ confidence. He's got skills you couldn't even begin to comprehend. He's a _damn_ _good_ cop but someone did something to beat that down."

"Where did he go to school?" McGee asked. His attention was divided in three ways as he ate his lunch, kept an ear in the conversation of his teammates and scrolled through the huge document file in Grant's computer.

Tony shot him a disbelieving glare. "He graduated with honors from Harvard Law." He answered. "Why?"

"I just know that the FBI requires some sort of degree and I wondered. Why did he choose to be a cop instead of a lawyer?" Tim asked curiously as he looked over at Tony.

"He always wanted to be a cop. He went to Harvard because that's what his mother wanted him to do." Tony stated quietly, effectively halting the conversation. He returned his focus to pushing the pasta around his plate.

All of them ate in silence for several minutes until Abby broke the quiet. "Grant knows who the dirtbag is."

"_**What**_?"

_**TBC**_


	8. Exams And Headslaps

Exams And Headslaps

072108

Disclaimer: Same as always. If you know 'em, they ain't mine.

Summary: Ducky makes a discovery. Jimmy has fun with a secret. Grant gets initiated.

Reviews: Yes please, Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

A/N: Ok, I pulled this down and reposted it because I personally thought it was one of the best chapters of the entire story. It grieves me deeply that it got absolutely no reviews the first time out. So please, people, as much as I dislike to beg for reviews it is true that positive reinforcement inspires the creative muse. So I find myself in the position of asking for the treasured review. If you like it, tell me so. If you hate it, tell me why. Thank you to all of you who alerted this story… y'all rock!

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Chapter 8

Abby nodded enthusiastically at McGee's yell. "Yeah, look." She pushed some buttons on Tony's keyboard and the link to her lab activated putting Romar's face and prints up on the plasma screen above their heads. "Grant said the New York PD had him six months ago but before the witness, the _real_ witness that is, could identify him they let him go." The scientist stole the last bite of Tony's garlic bread from his hand ignoring his offended yelp of _**'Hey**_!'.

Tim set Grant's computer searching for any document with the name displayed on the huge screen before turning to his own computer and setting a search command of his own. In mere seconds a BOLO was implemented and a search for an address had begun. Ziva set her lasagna slightly aside and, between bites, put her own computer to work searching the Interpol database for a fingerprint match of the suspect.

**In Autopsy...**

Gibbs watched Grant as he practically inhaled his pasta salad and garlic bread. After a few minutes of scrutiny Grant looked up sheepishly. "Sorry, guess I was hungrier than I realized. It was delicious. Thank you." He placed his empty plate on the table self-consciously. "I'll just get out of your hair now and let you get back to work." He pushed his hands against his knees in order to stand.

"Not so fast, young man. I'd like to take a quick look at you and make sure you're all right." Ducky set his own empty plate aside and reached into his desk drawer for his medical bag.

Grant watched him suspiciously. "But you're a medical examiner." He scooted back into the corner of the squishy sofa.

"Quite true, my lad, but before I entered this specialty I was a general practitioner." Ducky replied soothingly. "All of Jethro's team members consider me their personal physician." He looped a stethoscope around his neck. "I would only like to assure myself that there isn't a more serious underlying condition which may have prompted your unconsciousness."

Without being aware of it, Grant looked to Gibbs for reassurance. Jethro nodded, bemused, and took the last few bites of his lunch and finished his coffee. "I need to get back upstairs to make sure the children aren't goofing off." He stood. "Will you be all right with Ducky and Palmer?" He asked Grant.

"Who's Palmer?" The nervous FBI agent looked around, seeing no one else.

Ducky peered around and realized his assistant was indeed still gone. "He's my assistant. I imagine he's still upstairs with the rest of the younger people."

"I'll shoot him back down, Duck. Take good care of Mars. Can't have Fornell bitching about mistreatment, can we?" Gibbs winked at Grant and headed toward the stairwell door without waiting for an answer to his question about whether Grant would be all right.

Ducky called after his departing friend. "Don't do James any permanent damage, Jethro. I find his services quite handy most of the time." He turned his attention back to Grant. "Now, my dear boy, I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Dr Donald Mallard. Everyone calls me Ducky for reasons that are rather obvious, I'm sure." He smiled, trying to put the younger man at ease.

"Grant Mars, FBI, Missing Persons Unit." Grant stuck his hand out for the elderly ME to shake, he did so.

"I'm very pleased to meet you." Ducky's smile broadened, swinging around as he heard someone join them. "Ah, Mr Palmer, so glad you made it back safely."

"I met Agent Gibbs on the stairs and he said you needed my help." Jimmy grinned at Grant. "Hey, I'm James Palmer. Most people call me Jimmy. Tony calls me 'Autopsy Gremlin'. You're Grant?"

The seated man nodded, still unsure as to how he'd gotten into his current situation. "Grant Mars, FBI, how ya doin?"

Formalities completed, Ducky got down to business. He extended a hand, helped Grant stand up and led him over to the desk. "I would never be so cruel as to ask you to sit on an autopsy table. Young Anthony on the other hand…" He paused, his eyes twinkling as his implication got the desired chuckle. "I'm sure my desk will allow me sufficient access. Now, would you be so kind and remove your clothing above the waist?"

After a small hesitation, Grant complied quickly stripping out of the expensive suit jacket, shoulder holster, tie, shirt and spotless white T-shirt exposing a torso that, while a bit thin, was surprisingly muscular. The older man launched into a story about the aforementioned 'nervous young lad in South Africa', thereby successfully distracting Grant while the quick but thorough physical was performed. It was over soon, to Grant's relief, ending with Ducky taking a blood sample.

"Well, you certainly seem to be in relatively good health. I would like for you to eat a bit more frequently though, you're a little too slender." Ducky smiled warmly at his new patient. He was positive that this would be far from the last time he'd see the young man. He handed the discarded clothing back and ushered Jimmy out of the office so Grant could dress in peace. "If you would deliver that sample to Abigail, Mr Palmer, I would appreciate it."

Jimmy grinned, his hazel eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "Will do, Dr Mallard. Should I tell her about..." He wasn't allowed to finish the quietly asked question.

"Oh goodness _no_. I think there should be one or two secrets she should be allowed to ... ah ... discover on her own, don't you? It certainly does explain one of the reasons why Anthony gravitated towards our Abigail." The ME smirked and shooed his laughing assistant away on his errand.

**Abby's lab….**

Jimmy walked into the lab where Abby was running tests on some of the minute pieces of trace evidence McGee had gathered at the scene of the kidnapping. He'd had a crush on the eccentric scientist from the moment he'd met her. He held a sense of awe at her brilliance. He had developed a relationship with Agent Lee which had cooled his crush on Abby into a deep appreciation and admiration.

She spun away from her whirring machine and noticed him. "Hey, Jimmy! Whatcha got for me?" She asked, spying the vial of blood in his hand.

"Ah…" He stammered. "Dr Mallard would like you to run some routine tests on this."

"No probs. What am I looking for? Drugs? Diseases? Is this an autopsy sample?" She put her hands on slim hips. "Is there a DB case I don't know about?" She leveled accusing blue eyes on the shy assistant.

"Oh no! Nothing like that. The doctor just did a physical on Agent Mars and just wanted to cover all the bases by doing a blood test. He wants to make sure it was nothing more than hunger and the panic attack that made him pass out the way he did." Jimmy explained as a gleam lit his eyes, only partially hidden by his glasses. He smiled as he remembered what the FBI agent had hidden under his clothing. He peeked at Abby's spider web tattoo and his smile broadened into a grin.

"Grant wouldn't do drugs. Tony told me how much he hates drugs and dealers. Besides, his eyes are too clear to have anything hinky in his system." Abby noticed his amusement and her gaze turned suspicious. "What's so funny?"

"What?" Jimmy's grin disappeared but the gleam in his hazel eyes remained. "Nothing." He started backing toward the door. "I really have to get back downstairs." His grin returned as he spun around and ran for the stairwell.

"I'll find out and then I'll hurt you!" Abby called after the fleeing young man. Laughter echoed in the hall as the door slowly swung closed. The Goth shook her head in exasperation before beginning the necessary steps to thoroughly check Grant's blood for … well… anything.

**Meanwhile, in Autopsy…..**

"He ok?" Gibbs asked as he silently walked up to stand next to Ducky.

"Unless the blood tests show something hidden, he's fine. A little undernourished but we already knew that." Ducky answered quietly. They watched as Grant, his back to the window, buckled his shoulder harness. Ducky had closed the office door to give the younger man the illusion of privacy. "I have the distinct feeling that we've just acquired another stray." He shot an amused glance at his old friend.

Gibbs sighed. "As if I didn't have enough problems." But his steel blue eyes twinkled. "The next few days should prove interesting though." They watched the FBI agent settle his jacket over his shoulders and give himself a little shake before opening the door and walking out, a facade of confidence firmly in place.

"Are they making any progress upstairs?" Grant asked as he joined them.

"Some but it's early yet. What I need from you is a report of what we can expect this Romar to do with Parker now that he has her." Gibbs started for the stairs, irritated that maintenance hadn't fixed the elevator yet. Jimmy passed him on the way back to his own work station, huge grin still in place. Gibbs sent him a narrow eyed glare but didn't comment.

Grant paused and smiled at Ducky. "Regardless of how it happened, it _was_ a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"As it was meeting you, my boy. I daresay our paths will cross again soon." He smiled kindly as Grant shuddered. "But not, I'm sure, here. Go now before Jethro has an apoplexy.

Grant nodded and sped off. "Later, Dr Mallard." The reply of 'Please call me Ducky' floated after them as the stairwell door swung shut.

Jethro paused on the landing two floors up and sat down, patting the floor next to him. "Now, tell me what Romar's gonna do." He commanded.

"Nothing." Grant responded instantly.

"Nothing? Then why'd he take her?" Gibbs asked incredulously.

"Well, let me amend that. Nothing at _first_." Grant allowed. "She's young, pretty, seemingly unattached with no family close, right?" Gibbs nodded and Mars continued. "My guess is that he doesn't know that she's Navy. That's his biggest mistake to date. He'll take her to wherever he's got his latest house set up, drug her, intimidate her and force her into prostitution. When he deems her ready, he'll sell her to the highest scumbag bidder overseas."

"Not this time." The silver haired agent vowed.

"I hope not. The son of a bitch has been getting away with it for way too long." Grant said quietly. He hesitated, considering his next words carefully. "I have to confess that I've heard Fornell bitch about you and your team every day for the past month. If he'd mentioned just _once_ that Tony was on your team, I'd have been better prepared but it's done and I apologize for the trouble I've been today. Thank you for buying me lunch. I'll pay you back." He stared steadily at the step below his feet.

"That's not necessary." Gibbs told him. "Tell me about New York. What happened there?"

With a sigh, Grant related everything that happened from the time he'd been met by Agent Johnson at the helipad to the circumstances leading him to walk out of the task force.

"Well..." Gibbs paused, thinking about the best wording for what he needed to say.

"I was an idiot, right?" The younger agent sighed in disgust.

Jethro gave him a light headslap. "I was going to say that you got royally screwed on that deal. We don't do things that way here. The local LEOs don't get our witnesses and we don't let anyone go if there's any doubt at all about them. _**And**_ it never helps when the people you're depending on for back up are more interested in budgets than results." He said seriously. "I hate to say it but even Fornell isn't that stupid but _don't_ tell him I said that. Romar won't get away again."

Grant rubbed the back of his head even though it didn't hurt. "How do I help?"

"We're going back upstairs and you're going to get with McGee. Tell him everything you know about Romar's habits and MO. Go through every file on your computer for any piece of info, even if it doesn't seem significant. They're running BOLOs and Interpol searches. We should get a hit soon." Gibbs stood up and headed up the remaining stairs to his floor, clearly expecting Grant to follow him. After a moment's disorientation, the younger agent scrambled to his feet and rushed after the Team Leader.

_**TBC**_


	9. Cars, Kisses And Warnings

Cars, Kisses And Warnings

072408

Disclaimer: None of these lovely people belong to me, if they did I'd have moved out of this disaster area by now.

Summary: Well, the title pretty much explains it all.

Reviews: Yes please. Reviews are the warm fuzzies that light up my day and fuel the imagination. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!!

A/N: Unfortunately this is the last finished chapter so updates might slow down a little. But I know where I'm going with this and I know how it will end. It only has 3 or 4 more chapters so hopefully I won't take long to finish this up. The old computer now works although I'm waiting for a new charger so I can access all my info on it. With any luck I should be able to finish Resurrected and update The Demon Within sometime in the near future.

I want to send a big thank you to 'girl1128' for her sweet emails and for reminding me what's important about fic writing.

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Chapter 9

Tony hung the phone up in frustration when his questions garnered no results. His portion of the investigation was going nowhere fast and he knew Gibbs would be pissed when he got back. Unwillingly, his green eyes swung toward the elevator. What _were_ they doing down there anyway? The Boss had made a brief appearance to chase Abby back to work only a few minutes after Palmer had decided he'd been absent from his post for too long. But the Team Leader had disappeared back downstairs after only twenty minutes. Realizing the control panel hadn't been repaired yet and the lift was still stuck down at Autopsy, he turned back to the papers on his desk. But his concentration was shot.

'_Why is Ducky keeping Marvin down there so long_?' Tony worried as his attention wandered yet again only to be swiftly refocused when his head bounced forward from Gibbs' headslap.

"Something wrong, DiNozzo?" The silver haired man asked as he continued his way to his own desk.

"No, Boss." Tony answered him quietly and went back to his list.

Grant was a few minutes behind Gibbs as he made his way into the bullpen. He paused for a moment just outside the team's area. As the desks were positioned, Tony's was directly in front of Grant, his back to the newcomer as he tried to concentrate on the papers in his hand. An evil smile lit Grant's lean face. Ziva, whose desk was positioned where she could see him, noticed and lifted her eyebrows in silent question. She watched curiously as he silently stalked up behind her partner.

Tony jumped as someone spoke directly into his ear. "I'm very angry with you."

"Grant!" Tony spun around to face his old friend. "I didn't know what else to do." He babbled desperately. "I couldn't let Gibbs tell Fornell that you're a basket case."

"I understand, I really do but that doesn't mean I'm any less pissed off." Grant stated as he moved past Tony to peer over Tim's shoulder at his own computer sitting open and running a search program.

McGee glanced back over his shoulder at Grant. "Would you like a chair?" He asked mildly, continuing to type away at his keyboard.

Mars smiled. "Sure." He answered.

Tim nodded towards several chairs off to one side, "Help yourself." He smirked and then laughed at the eye roll Grant gave him before going over, dragging one of them back and then placing it where he could see the computers that were flashing their search screens.

The FBI agent settled in and listened attentively as Tim filled him in on the progress that had been made in locating the suspect. He tried to ignore his ex-partner who kept sneaking glances his direction. Finally, he spoke without turning to look at the Italian.

"Still got the 'Vette, DiNozzo?" Grant asked casually.

An expression of sorrow filled pain crossed Tony's handsome face. "No. She got stolen, used in some robberies and then wrecked after a multi-state chase a couple years ago."

Grant looked at him in surprise. "I saw that chase. That was _your _car? I thought she looked familiar. Damn, man, that _sucks_."

"Yeah." Tony said mournfully. "Why'd you paint the Rocket?"

"Got vandalized. My boss took the opportunity to inform me that it wasn't wise to drive something so distinctive." Grant's face reflected his disgust over that opinion. He'd loved the red and gold flames that had been painted over the hood, flowing back towards the windshield, down the front fenders and along the bottom of both sides of the black car before flickering up the back fenders and tracing along the top of spoiler that spanned the trunk. He wondered if Tony had looked close enough to see that he hadn't changed the valve caps on the tires. He refused to give those up distinctive or not.

"Some people have _no_ taste." Tony observed, the disgust in his face mirrored Grant's as he checked his notes and made another phone call.

"If we're done with the automotive reminiscing, what do you have for me, people?" Gibbs demanded as he stalked around his desk to stand in the center of the bull pen. All the agents present, except Tony who was still on the phone, Grant included, sat up straight and riveted their attention on the Team Leader.

"McGee?" Gibbs pointed his finger at the computer tech.

"Grant's computer is almost finished separating the documents we need. No hits on the local BOLO as of yet but I'm also running a photo ID search in the DMV to see if he's got a license in another name. If he does, once we have it we'll run another property and vehicle purchase search." Tim reported promptly.

"Keep me posted." Jethro turned towards the Israeli. "Ziva?"

"No hits on Interpol yet. I've initiated a search of all international flights for Romar and for any passengers fitting the description of all the women that have been reported missing in the last six months." She said.

Gibbs nodded his approval. "DiNozzo, what are you working on?"

Tony said goodbye to the person he'd been talking to on the phone and hung it up. "I collected a list of contacts from Petty Officer Parker's CO and I'm calling all of them to see if she'd been seen with a new male friend or has been talking about anyone new in her life. No luck so far." He placed a check next to a name on the list in front of him and picked up the receiver again to place the next call.

"Mars." Grant jumped when the older agent barked his name.

"Yes?" He barely managed not to stammer as he blinked up at Gibbs' stern face.  


"Have you told McGee what you told me?" Gibbs asked.

"Not yet." Grant admitted as a faint flush stole up his neck.

"What are you waiting for?" Jethro had decided in the stairwell that if he was going to 'adopt' Grant then he wouldn't be treated any differently than the others. "I'm going for coffee. You _all_ have until I get back to have something solid for me." With that, he turned to the elevator that had finally been repaired and left.

"Is he always like that?" Grant asked Tim, sotto voce. "He smacked the back of my head when we were in the stairwell."

McGee gaped at his new friend. "_Really_?" He called out to Tony. "Hey Tony! Gibbs headslapped Grant."

Tony grinned in surprised pleasure. "Hey, what do you know? Welcome to the family, Marvin."

"Y'all are too weird for words." Grant grumbled, his voice reflected his deep confusion. "Tim? What am I missing here?"

"It means you've been accepted." Tim explained. "Gibbs only smacks his team, especially Tony. But all of us get it when we need it. Me, Ziva and even Abby once in a great while. The only one who's exempt is Ducky because… well, he's Ducky. No one would dare hit him." He lowered his voice. "Although, I can't be sure, I think maybe _Ducky_ headslaps _Gibbs_ once in a while. But don't tell anyone I said that."

"I didn't hear a thing." Mars assured him, his voice pitched low as well.

"McGee is correct." Ziva inserted from her desk. "Gibbs headslapped me the very first day."

Tim smiled at her. "It's sort of a wakeup call. Keeps us on track. Hell, with Gibbs it could even be considered a sign of affection."

"Huh, funny way of showing it." The shorter agent muttered with a last rub down the back of his gelled curls.

"That it is." Tim agreed. "Now, what is it he wanted you to tell me?"

Grant filled Tim in on everything he could remember about Romar and was startled when, at the end of his recitation, McGee jumped up from his chair and headed for the elevator.

"Come on, Grant." Tim beckoned urgently, pushing on the call button.

Mars hastened to follow. "Where are we going?" He asked, his curiosity peaked.

"Down to see Abby." Tim grinned at the delight that lit Grant's face.

Once more Tim led Grant into a wall of music that made him long for his own stereo system. Grant stared appreciatively at the sight of the tall Goth dancing in front of some machines as she sipped from a Caff-Pow cup. Her black ponytails bobbed with her motions and her white lab coat swayed over her curves.

"_**Abby**_!" Tim yelled.

She whirled around gracefully on her platform boots. She beamed at her visitors. "Timmy! Grant!" She bounced over and turned the music down. "What's up?"

"We need to borrow one of your computers. Ours are tied up in other searches and Grant just gave me a huge idea." McGee explained as he walked over to an unused terminal. "Can I use this one?" He pulled out the chair in front of it and hit the power switch without waiting for an answer.

"Sure, not like I'm using it." Abby told him sarcastically. "Help yourself."

"Thanks." Tim answered absently, already engrossed in his latest task.

"What's he looking for?" Abby asked Grant.

Feeling useless, Grant looked over at the scientist and shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Ok. He'll tell us when he's ready. We'll let him do his thing all alone then." She grinned as she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward her office. She waited until the door closed behind them and took off her despised lab coat. "Want a Red Bull?"

Grant almost groaned. "Oh _yes_, _**please**_." His voice was deep with longing. It felt like it'd been _years_ since the last one.

Abby's crystal blue eyes widened at the sound. "_Oh_… _my_… _**God**_. What _else_ can I ask you that'll get me _that_ answer in _that_ tone?"

Sapphire eyes roamed over her body, starting at her feet and ending at her lust filled eyes. His voice kept the same low husky tone as he spoke. "Anything you _want_ to ask me, Baby."

Abby's hands shook and her knees were weak as she went over to the cooler and took out a can of Red Bull, her back to him for a moment. He didn't give himself time to even think about it, he gulped, took a leap of faith and grabbed the opportunity to sidle up behind her. He slid his hand caressingly down her arm and took possession of the can as his other arm wrapped around her waist. "Thanks." He murmured in her ear.

She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip with even white teeth. "You don't know how much I wish we were anywhere but here." She whispered after a minute as she let her head fall backwards onto his shoulder, exposing her throat. A tiny voice deep inside told her they were moving too fast but it felt so damn _right_ that she couldn't have stopped for anything.

"Oh, I think I do." Grant whispered back, aching to taste those dark red lips. He settled for planting a lingering kiss right on top of the spider web tattoo. He let the tip of his tongue flicker out tease them both with the sensation of it sliding over her silky skin. A low groan echoed through the office as Abby melted into his arms. A tap on the glass door startled them out of the sensual haze they'd fallen into.

As soon as the hydraulics opened the door, Tim stuck his head in, a smirk firmly in place. "Gibbs wants us back upstairs. We might have a lead."

Grant rested his forehead on Abby's shoulder and took several deep breaths. He tightened his arm, pulling her back tightly against his front for a long moment, before sliding it slowly away from her waist. As soon as she was loose, she turned to face him; her eyes wide and stunned. McGee was amused to see that she appeared to be speechless. The FBI agent took a step away from Abby but stopped when she grabbed him by the tie, yanking him back. McGee's jaw hit the floor as his ex-girlfriend pulled the new guy close and thoroughly kissed him.

In the time it took for the computer expert to recover from his shock, Abby had finished the kiss and guided the thunderstruck victim out of the office. McGee grabbed a tissue from a box next to the door and led Grant into the elevator.

"Here." He said offering the tissue. "Don't let Gibbs catch you with that lipstick on your face."

"Thanks." Grant took the offering and began scrubbing at his mouth. He blinked in surprise when Tim flipped the stop switch on the control panel, sending the lift into semi-darkness.

"One other thing." McGee's face was deadly serious. "You hurt her and there won't be anywhere you can hide. Not from me, not from Tony but the one you really have to be careful of is Gibbs. No one messes with Abby while he's alive. Got it?"

Grant glared at the taller man. "Yeah, I got it. As long as you understand that _**I**_ don't hurt women." He turned away and concentrated on erasing the evidence of that amazing kiss. He spoke again, almost too low for Tim to hear. "Doesn't stop _them_ from hurting _me_." He reached over, restarted the elevator and ignored the other man's puzzled gaze the rest of the way back to the bullpen.

_**TBC**_


	10. Territorial Dispute

Territorial Dispute

072908

Disclaimer: Same as always, own nothing.

Summary: A fight, a gun, skills and some more headslaps.

Reviews: Yes, please. Love the warm fuzzies brought on by the lovely reviews in the inbox. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

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Chapter 10

Tony looked up as the elevator dinged its arrival. It had been several minutes since Gibbs had recalled McGee and Mars back from the lab, more than long enough for them to return so a team could be sent out to take a statement from the Petty Officer's friend. Since it was a joint investigation Gibbs had to wait until Grant returned to the bullpen to send anyone out. As the two agents left the lift, Tony immediately picked up the _off_ vibrations emanating from them. McGee was glaring at Mars with an expression that was a mixture of bafflement and irritation. Grant, for his part, was ignoring Tim but his face was stony; a visage that Tony was _very_ familiar with. A growl sounded low in his throat. Ziva glanced across the aisle at him in shock. The Italian stood up very slowly, his teeth bared and a thunderous scowl marring his handsome features. He caught a glimpse of Ziva's curious face and almost visibly composed himself, inhaling deeply.

"What's the problem, McGee? What took you guys so long?" Tony's voice was deceptively mild.

"Nothing." Tim answered a little too quickly and with an indefinable look in his gray eyes.

"Nothing?" Tony questioned, his green gaze fixed firmly on Grant. He stalked around his desk to block the FBI agent's path back to McGee's desk. His extra sharp vision focused on Grant's shoulder. He stepped closer, invading the shorter man's personal space. "This" He plucked a long black hair from the luxurious brown material. "does _not_ look like 'nothing'. Taking an extra _personal_ interest in forensics, Mars?"

Grant barely glanced at the strand of inky hair that dangled from Tony's long fingers. "What I'm taking an interest in is none of _your_ business, DiNozzo." He snarled. He shifted to go around Tony but the taller man matched his movement.

"Oh, I think it is." Tony stated ominously. "I won't let you hurt her."

"That's a good one." Grant snorted. "God, your memory is flawed. When have _**I**_ _**ever**_ been the one doing the hurting? Huh? Tell me, Tony." He took a step back to keep Tony out of his face but the taller man followed him relentlessly.

"Abby's different." Tony persisted.

Grant smiled unpleasantly. "Got that right, pal." He absentmindedly dropped the lipstick stained tissue into the closest trash can. Unfortunately it was Tony's. Sharp green eyes narrowed on the tissue. He leaned over and plucked it out of the bin.

"Is that lipstick? _Abby's_ lipstick, Grant? You _kissed_ her?" Tony spun around and pinned Tim with his glare. "And just what were _you_ doing, Probie?"

"Well, I had to do a search on one of Abby's computers. Actually, she's the one who…" Tim began but stopped when Tony held a hand up.

"Forget it." He turned back to his ex-partner and help up the red and white tissue. "_You_ explain it to me." He demanded. His voice could have dripped icicles.

"There's _nothing_ to explain." Sapphire eyes glinted dangerously but Tony ignored the warning.

Ziva watched from her desk as the two men faced off. There was something about their posture that set off her Mossad trained senses. Moving slowly and in complete silence, she rose from her chair in preparation of possibly breaking up a fight.

Something deep inside Grant's head clicked, a sense that he'd been without for nearly six years snapped back into place. His back was to Ziva's desk and all of Tony's attention was focused on him to the exclusion of everyone and everything around them. Therefore it was a shock when Grant growled out a warning.

"Lady, I don't know who you are or what you think you're gonna do but my advice is to sit back down. I don't wanna hurt you." There was a subtle but distinct southern cadence to the dangerously snarled words.

At any other time the stunned surprise on Ziva's face would have made Tony grin in pure glee. He made a mental note to use it later to tease her but at the moment his attention needed to be on Grant.

"There is no way you could possibly hurt me." She countered confidently as she took a step to move around her desk and into the aisle.

In a move so smooth and quick it was difficult to see, Grant had his Sig Saur out of his holster and leveled at Ziva's shoulder. "_Sit_ _**down**_." He warned again. She returned to her chair and lowered back into it, her eyes widening as the gun unerringly followed her although Grant's attention seemed to still be completely on Tony. She was astounded that anyone had gotten the drop on her, especially this FBI agent that she'd dismissed as unremarkable. The gun disappeared as quickly as it had materialized.

Gibbs watched the events closely from his desk chair. Unlike Ziva he sensed no imminent violence between the old friends. He _was_ _**very**_ interested to hear Grant's explanation of Abby's lipstick smeared all over that tissue though. He sat forward in his chair to better hear what was being said. Fornell hadn't mentioned the lightening speed of the new guy's gun hand. Jethro blinked as he realized Mars was left-handed. He wondered how Mars had known that Ziva had risen to make a move on him. The expression on the Israeli's face had been immensely entertaining. He'd never seen her so discomfited.

"Are you jealous, DiNozzo? Am I poaching somehow?" Grant questioned in a near whisper. The absolute silence in the team's area was the only reason anyone else heard. "You afraid your girlfriend's gonna prefer me to you?"

Tony sneered. "No, you're not poaching. Abby's my _best_ friend not my _girlfriend_."

"Yeah? Broken _her_ nose yet?" Grant asked snidely.

"Of _course_ not! You know I don't hit women." Tony denied hotly.

"Hit _on_ them though, right? Still go through girls like Kleenex then?" The shorter man asked contemptuously.

"Still 'want to get to know her first'?" Tony sniffed.

The chuckle that erupted from Grant did not sound amused at all. "If I did, would I have been kissing Abby already?"

"Yeah, about that. Explain. _Now_." Tony's green eyes bored into Grant's dark blue ones.

"Tony, in Grant's defense…." Tim broke off when their heads turned simultaneously and they fixed laser-like glares at him.

"_Stay_ _out_ _of_ _this_." They snarled in tandem.

"What part of 'none of your business' did you miss the first time, eh, DiNozzo?" Grant's low voice warned Tony to back off.

For the second time, Tony missed the warning. He leaned closer into Grant's personal space. "I'm making it my business."

"Yeah, you're good at that, huh, Tony. Everything is your business. You feel free to meddle in anything you feel like regardless of anyone else's feelings. Are you sure Gibbs shouldn't rethink your security clearance?" Grant knew he was treading on dangerous ground but at the moment he was too pissed to care.

That was the last straw. Tony began shouting at Grant. Not to be cowed, Grant yelled back. Their voices rose and their words overrode each other until nothing of the argument could be determined by any of the onlookers. Gibbs noticed other agents from different teams beginning to look over partitions to see what the commotion was. Rising swiftly he strode over to the combatants and smacked them both on the back of the head. He smirked when their foreheads banged together from the force of the simultaneous headslaps.

"_**Ow**_!" Tony yelped. He didn't know what part of his head hurt worse, the front or the back. He sent a resentful glance at his boss.

"_What_ _the_ _**hell**_?" Grant rubbed his forehead and glared at Gibbs.

"Mars and David, go question the witness. Tony, help McGee sort through the property search." He waited. "What part of that did you people think was a suggestion? _**Move**_!"

Ziva stood and began collecting her gear, keeping one eye on Grant.

"This isn't over, Mars." Tony growled.

"Give it up, DiNozzo." Grant smirked as he began walking toward the elevator.

**In the elevator…**

Ziva eyed her companion carefully. "We have not been properly introduced. I am Ziva David. I am the Mossad Liaison Officer attached to NCIS."

Grant turned towards her as she spoke and extended his hand for her to shake. "Grant Mars, FBI, Missing Persons. Sorry about pullin' that gun on you. I didn't want you to get close enough for me to hurt you."

"You cannot hurt me." Her dark eyes gleamed with humor at the thought. She grasped his hand a little tighter than a normal handshake warranted.

Ziva was only an inch or two shorter than Grant so their gazes met evenly. "One of these days we'll have to see now, won't we?" He smiled as he issued the challenge and returned her grip. His eyes sparkled with intelligence and humor. The confrontation with Tony had restored something Grant had thought lost forever and his confidence had returned like a surge of heat through his veins.

Ziva stared into his eyes for several minutes while they rode the elevator down to the garage level. Almost against her will, she was charmed by him. Satisfied, she nodded and released his hand. "I think we will be fine." The elevator doors opened and she led the way to an agency issued Dodge. "I'll drive." She grinned evilly. "How is your stomach?"

"That reminds me…" Grant reached into his pocket a pulled out the Red Bull Abby had given him. He'd slipped it in there during the conversation with Tim in the elevator and had forgotten it during the argument with Tony. He popped the top with a sigh of pleasure. In the time it took for Ziva to unlock the car, he'd drained the can and crumpled it up. He paused with one foot inside the car and gazed around the garage for a moment. Seeing what he needed, he raised the hand holding the crushed can and lofted it towards the trash bin next to the elevator, sitting down in the passenger seat without checking to see if he'd hit his target. Ziva's eyes widened as the lightweight can sailed across the garage to land neatly in the bin.

He smirked as she slowly lowered herself into the driver's seat, buckled the belt and started the engine in shocked silence. "What? You think Tony's the only one who got athletic scholarships?"

"I do not believe I have ever met anyone quite like you, Agent Mars." Ziva stated as she guided the car out of the building. What Tony had said during lunch came back to her, '_He's got skills you couldn't even begin to comprehend_.' She was beginning to understand the truth of that statement.

**Abby's lab……**

"Do I _need_ to know why you're kissing some guy a few hours after you meet him?" Gibbs slid a fresh Caff-Pow onto the table next to the Goth's elbow.

She spun around in her chair and grinned up at him in delight. "He's got this voice…" She closed her eyes and shivered.

"Next time keep it out of the lab. Okay, Abs? DiNozzo damn near went ballistic on his ass." Jethro tugged on one of her ponytails. "Any results on that trace evidence?"

She shook her head and chewed on her straw. "No more than we already knew. This guy is really _good_. Not good in the good and not guilty sort of way but good in covering his tracks and not getting caught way. It's no wonder Grant's been chasing him for three years. If this is the kind of crime scene he always leaves…" She stopped and shook her head again.

"If there's anything, you'll find it." Gibbs kissed the top of her head and left to find coffee.

Abby turned to her machines. "You hear that, men? Bossman says we'll find it so let's get to it and get the goods on the dirtbag." At the end of her pep talk she went back over to the stereo and increased the volume to test tube jangling levels.

**In the bullpen right after Ziva and Grant's departure….**

"So, tell me, Probie. What _were_ you doing while Mars was molesting Abby?" Tony's voice was casually menacing. He stood behind Tim's chair pretending to be helping with the computer search.

"I tried to tell you." Tim stated defensively, punching at his keyboard with unaccustomed violence. "_Abby's_ the one who kissed _him_."

"I'm sensing some discord here, McGeek." Tony observed. "When you guys left you were best pals. When you came back the hostility was all but tangible. What's up with that?"

"I don't mind if Abby dates other guys. I _really_ don't. We've been over for a long time. We're _friends_ but Mars… he… it was like he cast a spell on her. She was speechless, Tony. I've never seen her like that. Then she grabbed him by the tie, pulled him in and _kissed_ him." Tim shook his head and frowned.

"What happened before that? She didn't just kiss him, what did _he_ do first?" Tony questioned. He listened closely as the younger agent related everything he'd seen prior to 'the kiss'. By the time Gibbs returned with fresh coffee both of his remaining team members were in front of their individual computers and, by all appearances, hard at work. A narrow-eyed glare from Jethro kept the peace in the office during the two and a half hours that elapsed before Ziva and Grant returned.

**Later….**

Gibbs suppressed the urge to laugh as Tony's and McGee's head shot up in tandem when the elevator signaled its arrival. The two younger men gaped openly while Jethro pretended to be fascinated by his email. With a bow that would have made Rhett Butler proud, Grant ushered Ziva out of the lift. She smiled at him and waited for him to exit as well. With their heads close together they continued their conversation. The three seated men strained to listen.

"You are lying to me. That is not possible." Ziva accused as she giggled.

'_Giggle?'_ Tony thought. '_Ziva_ _does_ _not_ _**giggle**_.'

"It is, I swear. I'll show you sometime. If you want, I can teach it to you one day after work." Grant grinned at her before leaning closer and whispering in her ear. "Tony never could do it."

"Really?" She asked as she sent an assessing look at the glowering Italian, who suddenly found the file on his desk very interesting. "It's a date."

'_What did he say to her? Why is she looking at me like that? When did Marvin turn into such a shameless flirt?_' Tony's thoughts were as dark as his eyes as he covertly watched his ex-partner act completely out of character.

Complete silence reigned in the team area as Gibbs, DiNozzo and McGee watched their partner, a trained assassin, flirt with Mars.

"Report!" Gibbs barked out the order.

"Oh, there was nothing she could tell us that we could use." Ziva stifled her snickers and gave a not _quite_ solemn summary to her boss.

"Ziva's right. I showed the witness a photo of Romar that I have on my PDA and she didn't recognize him. The description she gave us of Parker's new boyfriend was completely different." Grant added as he hopped up to sit on the edge of Ziva's desk. They continued the conversation they'd been having on the drive back and in the elevator but kept their voices lowered so the other three couldn't hear.

Gibbs watched them for a few minutes before picking up the phone and placing a call to a well known number. "Fornell. We need to talk."

_**TBC**_


	11. Martian Or Something Else?

Martian Or Something Else?

081008

Disclaimer: Let's see. I own plane tickets to Atlanta. I own a membership to DragonCon. I own a new designer suitcase but I do _**not**_ own any of the characters in this story.

Summary: Meeting, explanation and a lead.

Reviews: Yes please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

A/N: I beg forgiveness for the delay in updates but I warned y'all that I was totally out of prewritten chapters. There will only be only one or two chapters after this one. I confess to 'borrowing' from Jim Butcher once again. Anyone familiar with Jim's amazing book series The Dresden Files will know what I mean. Everyone should _listen_ to the audio books of this series read by the wonderful James Marsters.

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Chapter 11

Forty five minutes after Gibbs hung up his phone, the elevator doors opened to reveal Tobias Fornell. The senior FBI agent walked curiously towards the bullpen, still unsure as to exactly why his friend had called him over. The sight of Grant Mars sitting on Officer David's desk laughing with the Mossad assassin caused Fornell to stop in surprise. Before any of the younger agents noticed his presence and before he had a chance to process the highly unusual scene, Jethro had stalked up to growl in his ear. "My office, _now_."

Tobias spun around on his heel and followed the taller agent back to the elevator. The car barely had time to begin its descent before Gibbs pulled the emergency stop switch.

"I can't _believe_ you people. I leave my newest agent in your care for less than a day and he's already turning into another DiNutso. Is it the building? Did you give him some sort of special coffee? _What_?" Fornell ranted.

"So what you're saying is he doesn't act like that normally?" Gibbs asked curiously.

"You're kidding, right?" Tobias exclaimed disbelievingly. "If I had _any_ clue he'd goof off like that I'd have left his ass in Boston."

Jethro grunted and fell into thought. After several minutes of silence, Tobias frowned. "What's going on?"

Instead of answering, Gibbs reached over and restarted the lift. "Let's go to Abby's lab. There's something you need to see." He pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed. "Meet me in Abby's lab." He paused to listen. "Yeah, right now. There's something odd about Mars and I want your opinion." He listened again. "I _know_ you just gave him a physical but I don't think this is something that would have shown up. Yeah, we're on our way, two minutes." He closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

The doors slid open and Fornell followed Gibbs into the Goth's domain. Ducky was already there having taken the single flight of stairs to reach the lab quickly.

"Jethro, I assure you that unless the blood tests reveal something, there is nothing wrong with Agent Mars." Ducky began as soon as they crossed the threshold.

Abby bounced up from gazing into her microscope. "Grant's as clean as a whistle, Bossman. Nothing hinky in that blood at all. What's bugging you?"

"Abs, bring up the surveillance footage of the bullpen from four hours ago." Gibbs directed without answering either of them.

The video feed began showing on the large plasma screen so all four of them gathered in front of it to watch. Gibbs had timed it just about right, the video began just before Tony confronted Grant in the aisle. Abby brought up the volume so they could hear.

"Oh, he's in so much trouble." She growled as she listened to her best friend berate her potential boyfriend.

"Hush and watch." Gibbs said quietly. He knew the instant the others had spotted what he wanted them to see.

"Whoa. How did he know where she was?" Abby breathed in awe.

"Damn, that's a new one." Fornell blinked.

Ducky peered at the screen but didn't offer an opinion. They could all hear a hiss from Abby when the men started seriously arguing. "DiNozzo is a dead man when I see him again." She threatened.

"Ok, Abs, rewind it and then pause it just before he pulls the gun." Gibbs directed and moved up closer to the screen as she did so. "Now, advance it in slow motion." Jethro leaned closer to the screen, his eyes squinted in concentrations. "Stop!"

Abby froze the scene. Gibbs glanced around at his companions. "Did you all see that?" He asked.

Ducky nodded with a slight smile. Fornell continued to look confused as he gazed at the stilled footage of his agent. "What are we looking for, Jethro?" He finally asked.

Gibbs put a finger on Grant's profile. "See? Right there. He tilted his head, just a fraction, so fast I didn't see it until Abby slowed it down. What's he doing?"

Ducky grinned. "It's simple really, Jethro. There's nothing unusual about that young man. I believe he is merely doing what you do."

"Duck, I don't do _that_." Gibbs motioned for Abby to advance the scene to when Mars pulled his gun and pointed it at Ziva without looking at which point he had her stop it again. "What _is_ it?"

"My friend, Agent Mars is doing nothing more than following his instincts. He's using 'his gut', to put it in your terms." Ducky's eyes sparkled at the frustration on Gibbs' and Fornell's faces.

"Nobody's 'gut' is that good." Fornell sneered.

"Ah, but you're wrong my folliclely challenged friend." Abby smiled as Fornell scowled at her reference to his ever increasing forehead. "Bossman here is always showing up just as I come up with results for him."

"She's quite right. I can't begin to count the number of times Jethro has appeared in my autopsy mere moments before I can make a move to call him." Ducky confirmed.

"Ok, say he's using his 'gut'. How did he follow her with the gun?" Fornell wanted to know.

"I venture to guess that he has trained himself to '_listen'_." Ducky declared.

"But doesn't everyone listen?" Abby asked, her crystal gaze focused on Grant's profile. She _really_ wanted to kiss him again. Her eyes glazed a little at the memory of their first one. Ducky's continued explanation brought her back to the subject.

"Yes, technically that would be quite true but actually everyone _hears_ but not everyone _listens_. _Listening_ is a lost art. I would venture to say that Agent Mars was '_listening' _to Ziva. There are numerous sounds he could have picked up with the right listening technique." Ducky explained.

"Like what?" Fornell demanded.

Gibbs continued to study the frozen images on the screen. He was beginning to understand and a small part of him wondered how happy the agent was with the FBI. A larger part of him cringed at the thought of having Mars and DiNozzo on the same team all the time.

"Her breath, the sigh of the seat cushion as she rose, the slight rustle of her shoe on the carpet, any number of ways, actually. One does not even need extraordinary hearing such as our Anthony has to train themselves to '_listen'_." The elderly ME told him. "I would love to perform a hearing test on that young man."

"Good luck. You barely got the physical." Gibbs snorted.

"That is quite true." Ducky admitted ruefully.

Fornell frowned at that revelation. "You did a physical on Mars? Why?"

Ducky glanced at Gibbs to make sure it was all right to divulge the reason for subjecting an FBI agent to a basic physical exam. At his nod, Ducky explained. "Your young man had a panic attack in the elevator when he unexpectedly stumbled upon my domain. That combined with his lack of food up until that point today, caused him to lose consciousness for a brief time. I felt it necessary to perform a rudimentary exam in order to ensure that there was no underlying cause for his collapse. Better to be safe than sorry, as it were. He had a good lunch and seems to be quite all right now."

"I see." Tobias nodded and switched his gaze back to the monitor. It took him several minutes to realize that Gibbs had left him behind to go back upstairs. He dashed out into the hallway to find his old friend holding the elevator doors open with a smirk on his handsome face. Laughter from Ducky and Abby echoed until the doors closed. The ride up was silent. Gibbs was still thinking about the possibility of stealing the agent with the unusual talent while Fornell was thinking about how much the quiet new-comer had changed in a single day.

**In the bullpen…..**

Grant sat on Ziva's desk and watched the computer as it ran its search program. Tony watched them covertly as he checked off the last name from the Petty Officer's contact list. None of them had been any help. He recognized the moment that his ex-partner got an idea. It was something he'd witness numerous times over the year they'd worked together so he was not surprised when Grant sat straight up, spun around in place and addressed McGee.

"Hey, Tim, when you guys put out those BOLOs did you send them to all the medical facilities?" He asked.

"Let me check." Tim pushed a few keys on this keyboard. "Yes, we did. Why?"

"Just a hunch." Mars shrugged. He'd turned back to say something to Ziva when McGee's phone rang.

"Special Agent McGee." Tim answered his phone briskly. "Yes, that's right. You're sure? That's _great_. Can you stall……" He broke off and listened for a moment. "That's perfect. Thank you. We'll be there soon."

The elevator doors swished open as McGee hung up the phone.

"What do you have for me, McGee?" Gibbs demanded.

"_How_ do you _**do**_ that?" Fornell grumbled.

Tim stared at the back of Grant's head in disbelief. "We got a lead at the free clinic on the west side. We have to hurry though."

"Gear up!" Gibbs tossed the keys to Tony. "DiNozzo, gas the car."

"On it, Boss." The Italian caught the keys and grabbed his gun and gear with smooth, well-practiced moves before heading for the elevator

Fornell wondered why the computer tech was staring at his agent but recovered quickly. "Mars, you're with me. I want a full report of _everything_ you've done today."

Grant winked at Ziva and grinned as he hopped off the desk. "Yes, sir!" His tone, if not his motions, suggested a salute.

Ziva hid a smile at his antics, so like Tony's but somehow less annoying. She had the feeling that the two of them had driven their superiors insane before they'd split up. She caught herself envying Abby for a moment before collecting her own gear and following the rest of her team to the garage.

_**TBC**_


	12. Informative Conversations

Informative Conversations

091608

Disclaimer: I don't own anything right now, wish I did.

Summary: Everyone's talking about Grant…

Reviews: Yes please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!!

A/N: This bit ends awkwardly but it's been a while since I updated and I needed to get it posted. Most of this has been written for a while but RL, not to mention a totally amazing weekend at DragonCon, sidetracked me for a bit longer than I'd anticipated. So without further ado….

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Chapter 12

**Abby's lab……**

Ducky crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed the bright-eyed Goth. She had gone back to studying Grant's profile with rapt attention. He cleared his throat to gain her attention. She ignored him.

"Abigail." He said sternly. "We need to talk." She continued to ignore him. "_**Abigail**_!" He repeated in a stronger tone of voice. She jumped and turned back to the ME.

"Sorry, Ducky." She apologized meekly. She gestured towards the monitor that was still showing a slow motion of Grant pulling the gun on Ziva. She stopped the feed. "That's the most amazing thing I've seen in a long time." She said in awe before she turned and faced him, attention firmly in place. "What did you say?"

Ducky's strict tone belied the twinkle in his eyes. "What is this I'm hearing about you and Agent Mars _kissing_? Do I need to have a _word_ with the young man?"

A shy smile appeared on her pretty face. "No, Duck-man. _I_ kissed _him_. Well, actually he did kiss me first but on the neck." Her hand came up and covered the spot in the center of the spider web tattoo that Grant had caressed with his lips.

Ducky's stern visage melted into an indulgent smile. "Just keep me informed of developments, my dear. That way I can alert Anthony as to whether or not he needs to stock up on dollar bills." He patted her shoulder, kissed her cheek and left her gazing at the FBI agent's profile.

**Meanwhile in Fornell's FBI issued sedan…..**

Tobias watched as his newest agent nearly vibrated out of the passenger seat of the FBI issue sedan. He's gotten used to the excess energy that seemed to be part of the younger man but the tone of the energy had changed. Before today it had been the nervous energy of someone trying to prove something either to himself or his superiors, Fornell hadn't figured out which yet. Now the energy was… different… more aware. If he didn't know better Fornell would swear that Mars had gotten an infusion of confidence from something inside the NCIS building. Rather than getting a headache, he decided to talk to Grant.

"Give me your update." He commanded calmly.

Grant glanced over with sparkling blue eyes. He nearly bounced in his seat like an overactive child. "We're gonna get him this time, Boss. I can _feel_ it."

There was something in the way Mars said 'feel' that made the hairs on the back of Fornell's neck stand up. He swallowed and tried again. "Tell me _everything_ you did today from the time you got to the crime scene until now. Don't leave out _any_ detail." He paused before continuing with a slight smirk. "Including any _kissing_ you might have done."

Instead of the blush Tobias would have gotten even the day before, the grin that appeared on Grant's face seemed to light up the car's already sunny interior. He settled slightly on the cushion and concisely reported every moment of his day so far. "And now we're following up a lead from the BOLO they put out." The younger agent concluded.

If Fornell were inclined to follow Gibbs' example, Mars would have had a concussion from the headslaps he felt the urge to dish out. Instead he sighed and followed the NCIS car in silence for a few minutes. Following the other agency's vehicle was no easy task as Gibbs was driving but long-term friendship had its advantages and Tobias managed to stay behind the dark blue Dodge. They still had a way to go before reaching the clinic so Fornell decided to try to get some answers.

"Ok, I heard what you _did_ today so now I want to know _what_ _happened_ to you today." He questioned quietly.

Grant turned slightly to look at his boss. "I'm not sure I'm following you." He said with a confused frown.

Fornell huffed in frustration. "Yesterday I had an agent that I'd hired just about a month ago. Sure, he was a bit wired from too much coffee and energy drinks but he was quiet. Followed orders without question, _didn't_ flirt while on the clock, _didn't_ get into arguments with agents from other agencies and never, _ever_ pulled a gun on anyone who hadn't drawn first, _especially_ a _**Mossad**_ officer. I want to know where _that_ agent went and _why_ he left a DiNutso wannabe in his place."

An abashed smile graced Grant's lean features. "Oh, _that_."

"Yes, _that_!" Tobias exclaimed. "Explain _that_ to me and maybe I _won't_ fire you."

Grant blanched at the threat but resisted the urge to retreat into the timidly passive façade he'd lived behind for so long he nearly couldn't remember _when_ it had developed. He gave the issue a few minutes of serious thought, trying to figure the best way to explain how he felt. "Well, today while I was arguing with Tony I regained something I'd lost… or thought I'd lost at any rate."

Fornell concentrated on following Gibbs for a minute. "I'm gonna need a _little_ more than that." He finally told the younger agent.

Grant nibbled his lower lip for a second before speaking quietly. "When I transferred to Boston out of Baltimore I felt like I'd lost something important. Like a sense that I'd relied on was _gone_. I felt numbed. Diminished. I felt that way for nearly six years. That debacle in New York didn't help any, if anything it made it worse. After that, after what Agent Johnson did to me, for the first time in my life I doubted my skills. I questioned my choice to become a cop rather than opening a law practice. I decided it would be better if I became just another agent, an automaton. Follow orders, _don't_ make waves, _don't_ stick out. I learned to blend rather than buck, even more so in the last six months. But today… during that argument, something clicked back into place. Gibbs had listened to me, heard what I had to say and _didn't_ criticize. I'm not saying you do, Boss, but in the last few years I _have_ gotten a good deal of criticism. Today I realized I still had that sense. It felt like my head was clear for the first time in _years_ and it felt so _good_. All the old confidence I'd had in Baltimore, and even before that, just flooded through me like liquid heat." He closed his eyes and shivered a little as he remembered how _good_ it had felt to throw that can across the garage and just _know_ it was going to hit its target.

Something Fornell had said came back to Grant and he tilted his head curiously. "How did you know I was arguing with Tony? For that matter, how did you know I pulled my gun on Ziva?" He asked.

"Jethro called me over and dragged me down to Scuito's lab to watch the surveillance tape of it. And I _saw_ you flirting with David." Fornell explained. He hesitated before continuing. "What's this 'sense' you keep talking about?" He had a funny feeling he knew already but wanted to hear it from Mars.

Grant rubbed his earlobe, thinking. "Well, for a very long time, starting when I was about 11, I trained in martial arts. I was small for my age, prime target for bullies, so Dad wanted me to be able to defend myself and not get hurt. I studied Jujitsu, Karate and Tai Chi. While I was studying those disciplines I was also being trained to focus my senses. The best sense I had – have – is hearing. So I was trained to _listen_. Ziva asked me the same thing. She's got some martial arts training and wanted to know how I'd managed to follow her with the gun. Told her I could _hear_ her but she doesn't believe me. We're gonna meet up some evening after work, after this case is solved, of course, and I'm going to try to pass on some of what I've been taught. I tried to teach Tony back in Baltimore but he's too…" Grant paused trying to come up with the best way to categorize his old friend.

"Squirrelly?" Tobias suggested with an evil gleam in his dark eyes.

The younger agent let out a short roar of laughter. "Yeah, that's Tony."

Fornell laughed with him before he sobered and considered the phrasing of his next question. "Ducky said that you were using your 'gut' like Jethro does. What do you think about that?"

"By 'gut' is he saying that Gibbs and I have some sort of _instinct_ about what's going to happen at any given time? Some sort of… I don't know… sixth sense?" Grant inquired.

"Could be something like that. Jethro's 'gut' is _never_ wrong." Fornell confirmed with a nod.

Grant sat back in his seat, lowered his head and thought about that for a few minutes. Almost long enough to make Tobias nervous. Trying to divide his attention between the road and the younger agent, Fornell nearly missed it when Gibbs swung into a parking lot half a block ahead of them. He swerved just in time and slammed to a halt next to the other government issued sedan.

Grant's head snapped up and his startling blue eyes focused on the building several yards away on the other side of the pavement. "Oh yeah, he's in there." He said softly.

Fornell blinked at his newest agent as a shiver ran down his spine. The kid was more like Gibbs than anyone knew. They sat in the car for a few more minutes watching the other agents spilling out of their own vehicle. "How should we play this?" He asked.

Grant stared at him in shock, unable to answer.

The older man shook his head in bemusement. "You know the guy. You've been chasing him for over three years. I'm assuming we can't just go in there and arrest him. NYPD couldn't even hold him."

Hatred flashed in Grant's sapphire eyes. "They're idiots up there." He snarled. "I could have…"

"I know what happened." Tobias interrupted him. "It wasn't your fault. Now, did you question him at all? Does he know who you are?"

"Yeah, I did and yeah, he does. Why?" Grant nodded, his attention wandering to the four NCIS agents waiting for them.

"Ok, then. We'll have to play this one by ear. Come on." He opened his door and stepped out, after a couple of seconds Grant followed suit.

**Meanwhile, NCIS car….. **

In the front passenger seat, Tony's head bounced forward from the headslap. "OW! What was _that_ for? I didn't even say anything!" He protested.

In the back seat, Ziva and Tim exchanged amused glances but chose not to tease Tony in front of their boss.

"That" Jethro growled, "was for arguing with an FBI agent in the middle of our building." Another smack echoed through the car.

"_**OW**_!" Tony yelped again. "What was _**that**_ one for??" He demanded.

"You told me you would be all right working with Mars. Was that a lie?" Gibbs asked quietly. His tone was ominous.

"No. I _can_ work with him. But… Boss… he _kissed_ Abby!" Tony hissed.

"So?" Gibbs asked. "Abs is a big girl. Did you forget that she can take care of herself? Do you need to ask Chip how well she does that?"

Tony glared at the floorboard. "No." He muttered sullenly.

"Then what is the problem?" Jethro demanded.

"I don't know." The Italian admitted.

"Well, either figure it out and get your head on straight or sit this one out. Which will it be?" Gibbs warned his Senior Agent.

"I'll get my head straight, Boss." Tony almost whispered before he turned his head to stare out of the window.

"Good." The Team Leader turned his attention back to the road for a few hair-raising minutes. Several moments of silence passed before Gibbs spoke again. "Ziva, explain to me what you think you were doing with Agent Mars."

"I am not sure exactly what information you wish for me to give you. Agent Mars and I went to question the friend but she had nothing to tell us. While we were traveling the Agent and I got acquainted. He is a very interesting man. Abby is a very lucky girl." Ziva's dark eyes gleamed with humor when Tony swung around to glare at her.

"_That_ is soooo _not_ gonna happen." The Italian growled. "_OW_!" It was all McGee could do not to snicker as Gibbs' hand once more made contact with the back of the Senior Field Agent's head.

"Pipe down, DiNozzo." Gibbs ordered. "You know what I mean, David. Did you make a _date_?"

"Yeah, Zee-vah, did you and the Martian make a date?" Tony sneered the word 'date' as if it were the foulest of curses. He ducked yet another headslap.

Ziva smiled slyly. "Grant and I…" She was interrupted.

"_Grant_?" Tony snarled at her. "It's '_Grant'_ now?"

"_DiNozzo_!" Gibbs growled, annoyed beyond his limits. Tony subsided momentarily and faced the front, sulking. Gibbs continued. "You and Grant… _what_?"

Realizing that further tormenting her partner would swing their boss's ire her way, Ziva wasted no time in completing her explanation. "Grant and I are going to meet in the gym and he's going to demonstrate some of his martial arts to me. We are going to train together that is all."

"Good." Gibbs nodded as he allowed a tiny smirk to cross his handsome face. "We need good interagency cooperation like that. McGee, I want you to see if Mars can give you a few pointers."

"Well, Boss, I don't know…." The younger agent trailed off as steely blue eyes caught his in the rearview mirror.

"Wasn't exactly a suggestion, McGee." Jethro stated.

From practice, all the team members braced themselves as Gibbs braked suddenly and swung into the parking lot of the clinic. They spilled out of the car only to have to wait for Fornell to finish talking to Mars in the FBI issued sedan.

Gibbs immediately made his way next to his old friend as he exited the car. "What's the plan, Tobias?"

"For now, by ear." Fornell grimaced at the scowl on Jethro's face. "We need to visually ascertain that it's our dirtbag in there. Someone needs to go in."

The words "I've got a plan" were spoken in a voice neither Team Leader expected and they spun as one to the speaker.

_**TBC**_


	13. Divide And Conquer

Divide And Conquer

111208

Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing worth suing for.

Summary: A plan, a dog, a stakeout and trouble brewing…. oh my.

Reviews: Yes please Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

A/N: I wish to state that I have absolutely no experience in police procedures; I've never even been arrested. So please, y'all should suspend all belief and just go with the flow, ok? I offer no excuses for the tardiness of this chapter. It's all my own fault that it has languished in the doc files of my computer for all this time. I will say that I'm not happy with this chapter at all. It doesn't 'feel' right to me but I can't figure out how to fix it. There is one chapter left and then an epilogue. I make no promises as to when they will appear. The inspiration that had led me into writing fan fiction has seemingly vanished off the face of my world and I don't know when I will get around to finishing the other two works I have up. But have no fear, I will finish those even if I never write anything else once they are completed. So for now I give you this sorry excuse for a chapter.

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Chapter 13

Gibbs and Fornell exchanged glances at McGee's surprising statement. Tobias jerked his head slightly and Jethro followed him a few feet away.

"Let's see how the children handle this." The FBI supervisor murmured.

Gibbs was only mildly surprised by the almost insulted glare Mars shot them from his position on the other side of the FBI car, farthest away from the two older agents. Jethro's amused smirk was answered by a raised, scarred eyebrow before Grant shifted his gaze back towards his ex-partner and the rest of the NCIS crew.

"Whatcha got, Tim?" Grant asked curiously.

"Someone has to go in there and verify that it's our dirtbag. But none of us are injured or sick." McGee started nervously.

Grant bounced on the balls of his feet. "I can fix that." He smirked. "Hey, Tony, can I break your nose? I _do_ owe you one."

DiNozzo covered his nose protectively. "No. Thanks. Did that a couple months ago. Don't want to do it again." He replied from behind his hand.

"You're no fun." Grant complained even as a calculating look crossed his lean features. "Can you still do the 'Riggs' thing?" His question was greeted by puzzled expressions on Ziva's and Tim's faces.

Tony, on the other hand, responded with a grimace. "Yeah." He answered. "Hurts like hell though. I don't wanna."

"What is "the Riggs thing"?" Ziva asked with a smile at the thought of Tony in discomfort.

"Lethal Weapon 2, 1989, directed by Richard Donner. Mel Gibson played a cop named Martin Riggs. He wins a bet from his co-workers that he could escape from a straight jacket. He does it by dislocating his shoulder." Tony recited in a monotone that was accompanied by a scowl towards his ex-partner.

A truly evil gleam lit Grant's eyes but was prevented from baiting Tony further by McGee. "He's in there because of a broken nose. They're stalling him by saying the doctor is working on an emergency. They weren't sure how long they could stall though."

"Can we not simply go in and ask if he is still there?" Ziva asked.

"He'll spook." Tim answered. "Besides, we need to be able to follow him back to where he's got the girls hidden. Now, Ziva and Tony, you guys need to verify that he's in there. Grant, you and I need to go to my place and get Jethro."

"Um….. isn't that Jethro over there?" Grant asked, gesturing towards Gibbs, who raised an eyebrow at the familiarity.

"Not _that_ Jethro." Ziva snickered, noticing the Team Leader's slightly offended expression.

"Ah, I see." Grant said but the confusion on his face showed that he clearly didn't.

Tim's suggestion was met with horror from Tony. "No! McBad-Idea! We don't need that vicious…."

Gibbs joined the conversation. "McGee, start again and tell us your plan all at once." He included _all_ of the younger agents in his glare. "_Without_ interruptions."

A few years previously Tim would have stuttered through his idea but all that time under Tony's special brand of hazing had stiffened his backbone. "Well, I was thinking that Ziva and Tony could go in and verify that Romar is still in the clinic. When Romar leaves, Tony and Ziva, along with either you or Agent Fornell, could follow him back to where he's keeping the girls. Grant and I could go to my place and get Jethro and bring him to that location. Grant said that Romar uses drugs to control the girls. I was thinking we might be able to get Jethro to 'hit' on the drugs. We could get a warrant if we can use a drug dog to prove probable cause."

A wordless exchange occurred between Gibbs and Fornell. Steely blue eyes communicating briefly with amused dark ones. Fornell spoke first.

"Not bad, McGee, not bad at all. But DiNutso and Mars should be the ones to go in. I'll go with you and David to get the dog. He likes me." He stated with a smirk firmly in place as he remembered the one time he'd come into contact with Abby's dog. The retired military K-9 drug sniffer had been lying in the NCIS forensics lab after a visit to the vet waiting for McGee to get off work and take him home again. The Goth's landlord refused to allow her to keep the animal in her own apartment so he lived with McGee, who'd, ironically, had to move to accommodate the pet. The German Sheppard had taken an immediate liking to Fornell who had come to the lab to ask Abby for some information on a joint case the agencies had solved a few months before. He and the dog had hit it off immediately, delighting Abby endlessly. She'd instantly become more at ease with the previously formidable FBI agent and now felt free to tease him as much as she did her own teammates.

Grant rocked back on his heels and frowned. "Boss, I told you I'd questioned Romar in New York. Hell, I _**arrested**_ the bugger. He knows what I look like."

Tobias nodded. "That's true but you know what _he_ looks like as well. McGee said that he's being seen for a broken nose so he doesn't look like the photo you have of him so you have to use something else for an ID. You know what he sounds like, his build, the way he moves, right?" Grant nodded thoughtfully as his superior continued. "So you have to be the one to verify that the man in there is the dirtbag we're after. No arguing." He held up his hand as Tony and Grant both opened their mouths to object.

Tim and Ziva turned towards Gibbs with questioning expressions. He waved his hand impatiently. "You heard the man."

"McGee, you drive. We're taking your car, Jethro." Tobias grinned and held out his keys while Gibbs grimaced. "What? You think I'm gonna get dog hair all over _my_ back seat?"

"S'not like _**you**_ own the damn car." Jethro grumbled good-naturedly as he tossed his keys to Tim, who caught them easily.

"Gibbs, you should let me drive." Ziva suggested. "We would make the trip much faster."

"No." Fornell told her firmly. "I want to survive long enough to make this bust."

Gibbs hid his grin as he motioned for Tony and Grant to join him next to the FBI sedan. They waited patiently for the others to leave in the direction of McGee's home. Once the dark blue Dodge turned out of the parking lot, Gibbs turned towards the two younger agents. He assessed their clothing and, after a few seconds, determined that the suits all three wore would be all right. There was no indication that they were law enforcement. "Ok, Mars, you passed out in the car as we were passing here. DiNozzo and I will carry you in and you _listen_ for Romar. We'll try to get you in a position to take a look at him but we're not gonna risk him recognizing you. We'll identify ourselves to the receptionist and get you called back to the exam room quickly. As soon as we have an ID we'll go from there. Clear?"

"Crystal, Boss." Tony shrugged. The NCIS agents each grasped one of the shorter man's arms draping him between them while he slumped as if unconscious, deliberately letting the other men take his full weight.

"Jeeze, Mars." Tony complained as they started toward the clinic. "A little help here?"

"First rule of undercover, make sure you're convincing going in, don't wait until you're in to get into character." The FBI agent muttered almost inaudibly.

"Quit bitching, DiNozzo. You didn't have any trouble picking him up earlier." Gibbs admonished his Senior Agent as his agile mind fine-tuned his plan.

"We _will_ be talking about that later." Mars growled as they reached the clinic door. Gibbs opened the door and they entered the building slowly, pausing just inside to readjust their hold on the 'unconscious' man in their arms. Grant let his head loll around as they made their way deliberately slowly to the reception desk, he peered through nearly closed eyelids at the various people taking up the chairs scattered around the small waiting area. He immediately spotted the man fidgeting impatiently back in a corner next to an artificial tree, his back to the solid wall at the front of the building. The man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, was dressed in an inexpensive dark suit much like the one he'd worn in New York six months prior when Grant had questioned him on his presence in the house where an FBI raid had taken place. The swollen nose and beginning of black eyes distorted the man's features but not so much that he was unrecognizable.

Jethro smiled at the pretty young receptionist. After she asked how she could help, he explained. "My son's friend here passed out in the car. We called my doctor, Timothy McGee, and he told us to come here since it was closest to where we were."

The receptionist, whose name tag read 'Stephanie' recognized the name of the NCIS agent that had been on the BOLO and who'd answered the telephone when she'd called in the man she suspected as being the one listed in the alert. "Yes, sir. Dr. McGee called and let me know you were on the way in." She chirped. "If you'll follow me we can put your friend on a bed while you fill out the paperwork." She rose and motioned for her assistant to take over her position.

"Wait a minute!" A voice Mars would never forget sounded loud and clear in protest from right behind the trio. "I was here first and I demand to be seen before this guy."

Gibbs turned slightly, keeping his own body at an angle that would shield Mars, to glare at the intruder.

The petite brunette receptionist addressed the protestor. "I'm sorry, sir. The doctor will be able to see you very shortly. The only reason we're taking this gentleman to the back is because we need to put him in a bed. You don't expect us to put an unconscious man in a chair or on the floor out here, do you?"

The man Grant had just identified as Romar grimaced and raised a protective hand to his swollen nose. "I guess not but I've got to get back to work." Without any more than a cursory glance at Tony and Grant, he stomped back to his chair in the corner.

Grant remained limp as he let Gibbs and DiNozzo haul him through the door into the back of the building carrying on the charade until they had a curtain shielding them from anyone peering through the window in the door. He regained his footing as soon as he felt the other two loosen their grip on his arms. They all pulled out there badges and identified themselves to their escort.

"That's him." Grant grinned with vicious anticipation.

"You're sure?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah." Grant nodded. "He's the one with the black eyes that was sitting next to the plastic tree, the one who came up behind us and yelled at poor Stephanie."

Stephanie smiled at the trio. It wasn't often she got so many well-groomed, good looking men in the free clinic. "He's asked several times when he can be seen. If we don't bring him back soon he'll leave."

"We don't want to take him from here. We have to follow him when he leaves." Tony explained as he peeked out through the curtain, he could just barely see Romar through the door's window. The suspect wasn't paying attention to anything other than his need to get seen and get out. "He's wanted for kidnapping."

"Is there a back door or an employee entrance?" Gibbs asked. The young woman nodded. "Good. DiNozzo and I will go back to the front to 'fill out paperwork' and Mars, you slip out the back and cover it in case he gets suspicious and leaves through there. Romar's expecting you to be on a bed so he won't think anything of it if he doesn't see your feet under the curtain."

"How will I know when he leaves?" Grant asked.

Gibbs pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and tossed it to the shorter agent. "Put your cell number in here."

Grant caught the phone, flipped it open and quickly typed in his number, adding it to the contact list under 'Mars, FBI'. He pushed 'send' but cancelled the call after letting it ring only once and then tossed it back. "Just push 'talk' twice, it'll ring me right away as long as you don't get or make any other calls first." He told the Team Leader. Gibbs nodded.

"Ok. Agent Mars was it?" Stephanie asked as her dark eyes roamed appreciatively over the FBI agent's compact form.

Grant smiled, his dark blue eyes sparkling as he returned her survey. "Grant will do." He told her.

"Grant ,then. If you follow me I'll let you out of the employee door." She smiled as she led him down the short hallway. "If you gentlemen will wait for me, it'll be less suspicious if I come back out front with you." She told the remaining agents.

Gibbs watched as she unlocked the back door and ushered Mars through it. He didn't say anything as she returned and motioned for him and Tony to follow her back to the reception area. She handed a clipboard to Tony with a flirtatious smile. His ego was instantly appeased as her prior attention to his ex-partner had rankled. "Sir, if I could have you fill out as much of the information as you can on this form we can have your friend finish it when he wakes up. As soon as he does I'll let you know and the doctor will check him out. Until then the nurse will monitor his vitals and keep an eye on him. Could I ask you to have a seat?" She smiled at Tony as she picked up a different clipboard and scanned the waiting area. "Mr. Roark? The doctor will see you now."

"It's about freakin time." Romar growled as he rose from his chair and stomped across the waiting area. He brushed past the federal agents, again without giving them a second glance, as he bee-lined for the back room.

As soon as they saw him disappear behind a curtain, Tony and Jethro abandoned the clipboard and bolted out of the clinic. They rushed over to the car and piled in. Gibbs pulled out his phone and dialed Grant. The FBI agent answered quickly in a hushed tone. "Mars."

"He's in the exam room." Jethro stated brusquely. "He shouldn't be long."

"Right." Grant agreed. "It only took a few minutes when Tony broke mine. Just long enough to make sure it's straight and prescribe some really good pain killers."

"Yeah, it was the same when DiNozzo broke his a couple months back." Gibbs sent a steely glance towards the sulking Italian.

Twenty minutes later, the suspect, a prescription in one hand and a cold pack in the other, returned to the reception area. His blackened eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where are the guys who came in with their unconscious friend?"

Stephanie smiled calmly. "The younger man is in the back with his friend and I think his dad is in the restroom. Now, there is a pharmacy two blocks up the road, they're open late so you can get your pain pills filled right away. Tell them we sent you and they'll give you a huge discount." She told him.

"Wow. Thanks. With the cost of medications we can use all the discounts we can get." He commented amiably.

"I don't think the doctor needs to see you again unless you develop a nosebleed that won't stop or your headache lasts for more than two days. Now, if I can get you to sign your release instructions?" She handed him the clipboard for his signature and then pulled a blank piece of paper over and began writing. He handed the clipboard back just as she finished and folded the note over.

"What's that?" Romar questioned.

"What's what?" Stephanie asked innocently.

"What were you writing?" He pointed to the folded note under her fingers.

"Oh! That's just a reminder to myself to call my boyfriend." She smiled as she slipped it into her pocket. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Well, I was thinking about asking you to dinner but I don't date girls who have boyfriends." He tried what he obviously thought was a charming smile but did nothing more than give her the creeps as she remembered the trio of handsome Feds who had livened up her day.

"How sweet." She handed him his copy of his release instructions and picked up the chart for the next patient. "Have a nice evening, Mr. Roark." She smiled again as she let the young mother and her little boy though the door. She ushered them into a treatment cubicle and continued through to the employee entrance, unlocking it and shoving it open quickly and silently.

On the outside, Grant tensed when the door began to swing open, his hand resting on his gun, ready to draw. He relaxed when Stephanie peaked around the door.

"Grant!" She hissed and held out the paper. "This is address of the pharmacy I sent him to."

Grant grasped her hand between both of his, holding it warmly for long seconds until his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. "Thank you." He told her sincerely. "You've been a huge help." He smiled sweetly at her as his let her hand slip from his, retaining the note. He pulled his phone out to answer it. "Mars!"

"He's leaving the clinic. Get your ass out front!" Gibbs barked.

"On my way." Grant told him and took off with a final grateful wave to the pretty receptionist.

Stephanie retreated back into the building, made sure the door was locked and stood against it for a couple of dreamy seconds before pushing the memory of charming Feds out of her mind so she could concentrate on the last couple hours of her shift.

Grant peeked around the corner of the old brick building to make sure their quarry wouldn't spot him making a run for the car. The pharmacy address was clenched firmly in his fist. Not seeing Romar, he dashed for the dark FBI issue sedan and bailed into the back seat. He shoved the crumpled paper towards Gibbs, who was driving. "He's going to this pharmacy." He said as he draped himself over the back of the front seat. His position there didn't last long as Gibbs floored the accelerator. He was sent tumbling gracelessly onto the back seat.

Jethro steered the car out of the parking lot in the same direction he and Tony had seen Romar turn only a few minutes before. They could see the maroon sport car several car spaces ahead. Tony closed his cell phone with a quiet click. "BOLO's out, boss." He reported.

"Good." Gibbs growled. "Call McGee and tell them to pick up his tail at the pharmacy. We'll tag-team him so he doesn't rabbit."

Later, none of them could figure out if Romar had been that confident in his anonymity or if he'd been in too much pain to really pay attention but following him to his latest brothel set-up had been ridiculously easy. Gibbs parked nearly a block away while McGee had circled the block to make sure of the house number their prey had gone into. On the return circuit he parked next to Gibbs. They converged on the sidewalk.

"So that's Jethro." Grant smiled as the large German Sheppard sat obediently at Fornell's feet. "Wow, Boss. Looks like there _is_ someone in this world who likes you." The unaccustomed snark drew a scowl from the senior FBI agent. "Does he bite?" The question was aimed at Tim but it was Tony who answered.

"Only Probies and Rookies." The Italian stated seriously, his green eyes glinting with a sort of challenge.

Grant knelt down and scratched behind the ferocious looking dog's ears. "It's good we don't have any here then, yeah?" He grinned at his ex-partner. "What's next?"

Fornell answered him. "I get to take a dog for a walk." He grinned and tugged lightly on Jethro's leash. "Come on, Jethro. Let's see if you're any better an investigator than your namesake." His grin broadened as he heard his old friend growl, sounding suspiciously like his furry counterpart.

He led the obedient dog leisurely down the sidewalk towards the red brick row house. It had, at one time, been a nice neighborhood but crime and economy had done a lot towards its decline. He could see the occasional boarded up window in the graceful old houses. Stray pieces of newsprint blew across his path as he walked the dog in a seemingly aimless course that led unerringly to the doorway of the house they'd seen Romar enter. Walking until they were just past the steps, Tobias murmured a command to stop and knelt down to 'tie his shoe'. Jethro sat quietly awaiting his next command. He didn't have to wait long. "Seek." At the nearly soundless word, the trained drug sniffer began to quiver. His head came up alertly and he swung it back and forth, sniffing the air around him. He stood and faced the house they were standing in front of. He pulled at his leash until he could feel Tobias following him to the foot of the stairs. He gazed steadily at the door to the house for long minutes before giving a soft "Woof". Fornell pulled out his cell phone and dialed Gibbs. "Feels like a hit, wanna call in that warrant?" He asked quietly. He began leading the dog back the way they came.

"On it." Gibbs motioned towards Tony who nodded and opened his phone again. "Get back here so we can spread out and cover the place until back up can get here."

It wasn't long until everyone was in position, watching the house to make sure no one left before the warrant and reinforcements arrived. Tony and Grant ended up stationed in the alley at the back of the house together.

"Are you sure we should leave them back there alone?" Tobias asked Gibbs.

A gleam appeared in Jethro's steely blue gaze. "I just wish I had a surveillance camera back there."

Fornell grinned with appreciative glee. "Yeah, me too."

_**TBC**_


End file.
